Fright Night (1985) Rose's Journey 1 (Beginning): Blood Atonement
by GaGa4FrightNight
Summary: Fall 1986, the infamous house of 99 Oak is sold again & to a family of three. 17 yr old Rose becomes the focus of some mysterious ghostly happenings & discovers the previous owner, Jerry Dandridge, never left his final home after death. Is Rose Jerry's key to escaping his purgatory & his moment of Atonement?
1. Chapter 1

**FRIGHT NIGHT**

**1985**

Rose's Journey 1

Blood Atonement

By

~GaGa4FrightNight~

**Chapter One**

The sky overcast with a thin layer of clouds which gave the sky more of a grayish white appearance instead of clear blue and sunlit. And staring up at the gloomy sky were the blue eyes of seventeen year old Rose Garrett. Her eyes peered through the combination of the lenses of her black framed glasses and the window of the backseat of the wide load 1978 station wagon, the back overflowed with stuffed trash bags and filled boxes.

It was the same sky Rose had watched all day long and yesterday and the day before that. It was nearly a two day travel stuck in the half loaded backseat while her younger ten year old brother Jacob road shotgun in the front seat with their father John Garrett behind the steering wheel. She spent most of the travel deafened by the headphones of her cassette player Sony Walkman while the two guys in front jabbered on and on about sports and whatever else fathers and sons talked about. Her silence was caused by the dislike of having to move away from all her friends who were left behind at the east coast along with the only family home she had known since she was two years of age.

Now their destination was pretty much reached.

Rose understood why they had to move so far away. Her dad's employment decided to transfer him to one of recently taken over factories. John Garrett really had no choice, either transfer or lose his job and so he of course chose the transfer. Though she understood, she still hated it. She felt as if her life was going into the total shit hole because they had to move into a new house within a new town and she soon would be forced to be the new kid at a new high school. Never has she been the new kid, knew the same kids all her life.

There was nothing but dread inside the teenager while her younger brother, several years younger, was actually excited about their family of three being uprooted and taken away from everything. She dreaded everything from the move that was almost to an end, unpacking their belongings inside a whole different and unfamiliar house, and most dreaded was the moment she had to step foot onto those new school grounds to feel like a pariah amongst her new peers. But what was the hardest was leaving behind the town and the cemetery her mother was buried.

The driver's door slammed closed just as one song faded before moving into another and Rose finally looked to John after hours of staring out the window.

John Garrett first smiled at his son Jacob then looked into the rear view mirror to the reflected back seat where his daughter sat, she had basically put him on the fence with a typical dose of silent treatment. "Well," he cleared his throat, ignored Rose's typical stone face of dislike then looked to the more cheerful expression of Jacob's, "I got the keys to the new house and next stop is 99 Oak."

John enjoyed Jacob's enthusiasm, the younger of the two literally cheered with excitement while Rose basically did her typical eye roll of lesser than enthusiastic attitude. "Okay, we ready?" he asked, held onto his cheery smile.

Jacob practically shouted, "Damn straight, Dad!"

John sort of was surprised by his son's language but simply laughed it off. He didn't expect a single word from the pouter in the backseat and so the station wagon was revved up and pulled away from the realtor's office. He drove towards a small suburban neighborhood that had been around since the town blossomed.

Within about fifteen minutes the boat of a vehicle rolled onto Oak Street.

Jacob literally bounced in the front seat with his neck stretched out to spot the family's new house.

Rose continued to stare out the window, watched the perky little houses and their white picket fences slowly pass by. Some houses seemed older than others by at least decades with the typical family lived in look but well maintained. She imagined the house they were going to be living looked similar to those houses they passed and just as prim and proper too.

John called out, "There it is."

Rose finally pried her eyes from the window then peered over the front seat to catch a quick glimpse of their new house. Her eyes frowned then widened with shock, the house looked nothing like the others around it. She looked to the back of her dad's head in disbelief and grimaced in thought, that huge creepy house was their new home?

"You gotta be shitting me!" Rose finally spoke after days of virtual silence. She slid her glasses down to the tip of her nose and it didn't make the image of the house look any better, just blurred. She reluctantly pushed the glasses back up the bridge of her slightly freckled nose to see the house in clear detail. Her definite first impression was the house looked old and creepy.

"Oh, she finally speaks." John chimed, heard his daughter's voice for the first time in days, then he smartly asked, "Does this mean the silent treatment is over?" He glanced at Rose in the rear view mirror and immediately picked up on her shock about the state of their new home. "Hey, I know it doesn't look like much," he defended the house, "But the inside looks better than the outside, promise." He hoped the house's interior did, he never saw it.

John wound the steering wheel and rolled the wagon onto the driveway of their new home. "Ah, the movers are here." he smiled, tried to make the change seem less painful than he knew it really was, for Rose especially, "Great timing, now we can get to work unloading then unpacking."

"Damn, Dad, the house is big." Jacob said with more excitement then just as excitedly asked, "Is it old?" He looked to his dad as the wagon parked behind the moving truck.

"Yeah, built back in the nineteen-twenties I think, I can't remember." John answered his son's enthusiastic question then shut down the wagon and gestured with a nod of his head that it was time for them to get out and check out their new house.

John climbed out but not as fast as Jacob who basically raced down the rest of the drive. He shut the car door, planted his hand on his hip and scanned up the height of the old place while he spun the house keys around and around his finger.

The backseat door slammed.

John turned and looked, saw the misery over his daughter's face, "Come on," he sang then waved a hand in gesture for Rose to follow, "You can have first dibs on whatever room you want." He moved towards the front of the house with hopes that giving Rose first selection would bring her a bit more out of her miserable shell.

Rose kept a frown as she scanned her eyes over the massive house, thought it was creepy and looked more like it was condemned than livable. She heard her dad call her name and with a heavy foot she reluctantly made her way to the rickety looking front porch. She could hear Jacob constantly shouting '_wow_' and '_look at that_' and other excited remarks. She hated her brother's excitement.

Soon Jacob's running feet were heard coming up behind Rose then he raced passed and literally leapt up onto the front porch. "Wow, it's got a balcony thing too!" she listened in disgust to her brother's continuance of overly excited observations. She stomped up the front steps, hands shoved in her jacket pockets, and headphones still propped over her ears with the music turned down.

"Hurry up, Dad." Jacob repeated over and over.

Rose rolled her eyes with annoyance.

Before the door was completely opened Jacob went and ran into the house practically shoving John aside.

John stepped aside, outstretched his arm and offered Rose entrance before him. He continued to smile though Rose refused to even crack one. His eyes followed as she stepped over the threshold with slumped shoulders, head down, and a slow reluctance about each of her heavy steps. He shook his head and entered the house and immediately heard Jacob running around the large house moving through every room saying '_wow_' to this and that followed by shouting out his observations about specific details of everything the kid discovered. He bought the house pretty cheap not having the option to buy anything newly built in more substantial subdivisions. His employer paid for the majority of the house's purchase, including relocation fees.

John's eyes scanned about the old house. He saw there was work to be done, some projects had been started by the previous owner. One big project was the replacement of the huge window at the top of the stairs which was currently covered by layers of plywood.

John stepped up to the elaborate staircase. The place certainly had a type of charm, he thought, with plenty of its original design elements that included the almost Grecian looking statues guarding the foot of the stairs. He was informed that the previous owner had just up and left without word and left behind all of their belongings which were stored in the basement and was his responsibility to discard. And he was told that some local hooligans had gotten into the house and busted out every single one of the basement windows, also the one at the top of the stairs.

Rose felt as if she were in hell as her frowned eyes looked around at the house's dated décor. The house seemed more along the lines of something some old couple would live in or maybe it was more a project for someone into restoring old houses. There was nothing about the house that felt warm and cozy or family inviting. She missed the old house which was all warm and cozy with more brightly colored walls. The East Coast family home was decorated by her mother which also made it more appealing. That old shit hole was dark and dingy, she grimaced with thought, smelled like stale ancient dust.

Her eyes peered up the staircase then looked to the massive boarded up hole. A ton of questions entered her already frustrated mind. What the hell was wrong with her dad? Why did her dad buy something that looked as if were meant to be party central for illegal parties hosted by a bunch of drunken teens? He expected her to live in that thing?

Her eyes continued to frown in disgust which twisted her lips into a grimace.

Jacob darted passed Rose and leapt onto the stairs, he raced upward.

"The hell you are!" Rose shouted then raced passed her dad and darted up the stairs. There was no way the little jerk was getting first dibs, so at the landing, she reached out then snatched Jacob by the back collar of his denim jacket and jerked him backwards. She darted forward.

"Be careful and behave!" John shouted up the stairs then shook his head and headed toward the back of the house to begin assisting the hired movers with unloading the truck, "I'll be out back!"

Rose's instincts told her that double doors meant the best room in the house. She grabbed the doorknobs and Jacob raced up behind her. She turned to the side and kicked her foot at him. "Back off, shithead!" she growled at him then bragged, "Dad says I get first dibs so back your butt off!"

"He did not!" Jacob refused to believe their dad would give her such a privilege.

Rose held tightly one doorknob then leaned towards the boy, "Why not go and ask him, huh?" she challenged the annoying little brother then again bragged, "And while you do that I'll be checking out my new bedroom!"

"Fine, I'm gonna." Jacob narrowed his eyes at his big sister with his arms crossed over his chest. He spun around and started yelling loudly for their father.

Rose rolled her eyes, heard Jacob's yells continue down the stairs. She faced the doors, turned the knobs then pushed both doors inward. Finally a smile lifted over her slightly full lips then with her blue eyes widened behind the frames of her glasses, she stepped through the opening.

The room's décor mimicked that of the rest of the house. The décor told the house's original age. She stepped further into the room, left it's somewhat entryway, and immediately discovered a fireplace to her left.

For the first time since she learned they were moving, she was excited. She hurried in front of the fireplace, dragged her hands over the intricate and dusty mantelpiece. Her mind already imagined what she would put atop the mantel. Family and friend photographs and her mother's wooden jewelry box would look perfect atop the mantel.

She turned around and scanned the rest of the room, mentally arranged her furniture and imagined them in the right places. Her mind visualized her heavy metal posters and where they would be tacked to the walls. She crossed her arms over her chest, continued to smile then mentally noted, that was her bedroom. She nodded, agreed with herself.

Her eyes looked to one of the windows.

She moved across the room and stepped before the window. She grabbed the hem of the drawn shade and gave it a tug and it snapped, startled her a bit, and rolled into a loose scroll. Her eyes shifted down from the scrolled blind then looked through the window which looked directly into the neighbor's window. She lifted up the window, let in the cool fresh air, the room was as stuffy as the rest of the house. Her eyes focused on the neighboring window and she wondered who lived there.

Feeling the cool air, she hugged her arms over her chest. She ducked, leaned her elbows against the sill and poked her head out. Her head shifted side to side and she looked down the length of the yard below. Coming from the back of the house, she heard the ruckus of the movers and her brother's big whiny mouth. She smirked, knew Jacob was told the horrible news that she indeed got first dibs.

She inhaled in the cool air then slipped back inside, turned and decided to help out by telling the movers where the furniture went.

Hours and hours passed and slowly the inside of the house was filled with family belongings and furniture which didn't match the house's vintage décor. Cardboard boxes began to fill each room being placed in the center within the circles of furniture. Jacob ran in and out and in and out, tried to be useful though he was more of a hindrance to the movers. John desperately tried to keep the kid out of the movers way, gave the boy his own belongings to put in the other room on the second floor.

Rose had already announced her bedroom choice which she bragged had its own fireplace. She kept close watch of her bedroom furniture as it was hauled upstairs while she helped unload the back of the wagon that held most of their clothing shoved into trash bags. She focused more on her room, wanted to get it familiar and comfortable as soon as possible while everyone else focused on the rest of the house.

She put her bed together, once her mom's childhood full sized bed with a white metal headboard. All the bedroom furniture was passed down to her after her mom's parents passed away one after the other. All the furniture matched, the dresser, vanity, and bedside tables.

She unpacked all her collected items from stuffed animals, her mom's old porcelain doll collection, and tons of framed photos to each and every knickknack collected throughout her seventeen years. Piece by piece her room became more familiar which included, gradually hiding the vintage décor behind new wallpaper made from an array of collected heavy metal band posters, massive posters of her fantasy rock god studs who typically ruled their bands as lead singers.

When her record player was set up in some well provided nook over near the double doors, she dropped some vinyl. The music that once played through her headphones played through two speakers. Her record collection consisted of all heavy metal, from its origins to the present. That current spun and played record was Quiet Riot's Metal Health with the scratchy and nearly raunchy vocals of Kevin DuBrow.

She jammed out to the music. Let's Get Crazy blared as she continued to create her unique version of wallpaper. All the windows in the room were open with the music loudly passing through. She bounced around the room with a little head banging tossing about the tousle of strawberry blonde hair that was piled to the crown of her head with a red and white bandana tied around the hairline, the knot at the nap of her neck. She made her bed, tucked the blue sheet then tossed on the blue floral comforter followed by the fluffy pillows covered in matching shams. She was in her own little world just as her bedroom back home always been. Now her new room took the original's place.

On the mantel she placed a few framed photos of her mom followed by many group pictures of her friends she was forced to abandon.

She stopped her little impromptu dance party of one and stared at the images set across the mantel with a wooden music box in the center. Her eyes focused on the widely smiling faces of those abandoned friends which included hers. One photo she loved, it basically captured the moment she finally got to attend her first heavy metal concert, Dio.

The concert was one her greatest achievements, gave her all in high school classes just to earn that opportunity. She and her friends piled together in the huge conversion van and went to the concert having the time of their lives though they were seated in the balcony. One night of pure enjoyment, craziness, and lived the teenaged dream with no adults and enjoyed heavy metal greatness with the most wicked and magical voice of infamous Ronnie James Dio, the God of mystical heavy metal.

Her eyes shifted from the joyous images and looked to the beautiful face of her mother's. All her life she was told she got her looks from her mother, Anne Garrett, and was proud of that fact. She was told over and over that her mom's genetics kicked the crap out of her dad's which left her with the identical hair, eyes, and much of the features.

She pressed her fingertips against her lips then presented a kiss to the image of her mom. "Love you," she sang with a soft smile then turned away from the fireplace then walked to the record player to put an end to hours of making that room her own.

Once the record player was turned off, she heard voices come from outside. Of course she recognized her dad's voice but the other she didn't.

She walked to the nearest window and discovered her dad at the front of the house on the sidewalk apparently meeting their neighbor, a middle aged woman. She crossed her arms over her chest with her eyes intensely focused on the two smiling faces and listened to the sound of laughter come from both the neighbor and her dad. Not enjoying the display, she quickly closed the window then jerked down the blind and continued doing so with the other window. There was difficulty imagining her dad even chatting with another woman that wasn't her mom.

Anne Garret had passed away two years prior after a failed battle with cancer, Leukemia and for those two years John Garrett never once considered another woman which influenced his daughter's dislike of any sign of attraction towards another woman.

John smiled wide as he continued to enjoy his meeting with their nearest neighbor just over the white picket fence, Judy Brewster. He discovered that Judy was an employee at the factory his company had taken over which he was sent to oversee its transfer. He was eagerly joined by Jacob who came darting out of the house, down the steps and jumped right beside him. "And this is my son Jacob." John introduced his son to the kind and giddy new neighbor, "Jacob, this is our neighbor Judy."

Jacob smiled wide and loudly sang, "Hi."

"Oh, aren't you just the cutest." Judy sang then bent down and pinched a fleshy piece of Jacob's little cheek, "Sort of reminds of Charley when he was that age."

"Oh, your son Charley," John nodded, heard her speak about her son in their short introduction, he asked, "How old is he again?"

"He just turned eighteen and graduating way too soon." Judy sang then sighed, "They grow up so fast." She shook her head as she smiled down at the cute brown haired and brown eyed little man.

"Yeah, tell me about it." John laughed in agreement, "Rose turns eighteen this coming up February."

"Oh, that's right, you have a daughter too." Judy chimed then commented, "If Charley didn't already have himself a sweetheart...well you know what I mean." She giggled, gave John a light cuff against his upper arm.

John again laughed, "Yeah, well they could always be friends. Rose is gonna need someone to show her around and help her make some new friends."

"Where is your daughter?" Judy asked with curiosity, looked over at the house that once sheltered another handsome devil who turned out to be more of a devil than first perceived, "I would love to meet her."

"She's still in her room." Jacob eagerly answered then added, "She's always in her room even back home."

"Well, that's teenagers for you." Judy giggled, "Only around you when they're hungry or need money. Other than that they stay in their room all day or out with their friends." she glanced at her wrist watch, "Well, I have to be going. I'm working the late shift." she reached and tousled Jacob's hair, "Nice to meet you, Jacob." Then she looked to the new handsome and single addition to the neighborhood and sang, "And a pleasure meeting you, John." She offered her hand to who was basically her new boss.

John shook Judy's hand and pleasantly replied, "Pleasure's all mine, Judy. And, I guess, I'll see you around."

"Oh, well, perhaps this weekend you and your children would like to come over for dinner." Judy quickly offered, refused to pass up an opportunity such as a good looking single man.

"That would be great." John nodded in agreement, "How about Saturday."

"That would be wonderful." Judy chimed excitedly, "Saturday at six."

John agreed, "Great, sounds good to me." He kept his smile.

"Okay," Judy stepped backwards, "Saturday at six then. Bye." She flashed a big smile then turned with an almost girlish giggle.

"She smiles too much." Jacob commented, watched the woman sashay away then look over her shoulder at his dad.

"There's no such thing, Son." John reached over and pinched his son's cheek, mocked what Judy had done then said, "You're just the cutest."

"Dad," Jacob grumbled then knocked his dad's hand away, "That shit hurts."

John's mouth dropped, "Son!"

"What?" Jacob frowned, not sure what he had done wrong and stated, "Rose says it all the time."

"Well, don't use that word again." John scolded though the incident was somewhat humorous. He shifted his son towards the house by the shoulders and warned, "Next time I'll wash your mouth out with soap."

"Ewe," Jacob grimaced then, with hope, asked, "You gonna wash Rose's mouth out too?"

"We'll see," John held back a laugh then commented, "She might be too far gone to save her."

"Nah," Jacob shook his head, smiled with hope and said, "I wanna see you do it. It'll be funny."

Father and son reentered their now cluttered house which looked all out of order with boxes and furniture everywhere.

"It's about supper time," John said, it begun to get dark outside then asked, "How about we go to town and check out the pizza joint?"

"Sure!" Jacob smiled wide, pizza was his favorite food in the whole world.

"Hey, Rose!" John yelled at the foot of the stairs, "Rose!"

"What?" Rose came from one of the downstairs rooms and asked with a grimace, "Why are ya yelling?"

"Oh," John turned and faced his daughter, "Get ready, we're gonna take a ride into town and get some pizza."

"Dad," Rose wasn't too keen on getting to know the town or its residents then suggested, "You and shithead can go."

"See," Jacob spoke up and pointed accusingly at his sister, he urged his dad, "Wash her mouth out with soap!" He tugged on his wool lined denim jacket.

Rose frowned, then glared at her brother and snapped, "Shut up."

"Rose, kinda watch your language around your brother." John attempted a more civilized approach, "He's picking up on the language." then he asked, "And why don't ya wanna come?"

"Dad," Rose huffed then ignored the language ridicule and gave her excuse, "I just got done doing my entire room. I discovered this huge claw tub in the bathroom and, so, I'm gonna grab my jammies and take me a long soak." she swung around the banister and started up the stairs, "Just bring me some pizza home. Pepperoni, please." She continued up the stairs.

John puckered his lips a bit out of frustration then smiled and looked down at Jacob. "Well, guess it's just me and you, kiddo." he stated the obvious then grabbed his jacket, adult version of Jacob's.

The water filled the soaker porcelain bathtub while Rose was in the room nearest to the bathroom. She dug out towels and washcloths from one of the large trash bags they used for packing cloth items. She already emptied the box labeled bathroom.

It was her first day in the house and first time being alone. The entire house was eerily quiet besides the sound of running water that came through the open bathroom door.

She pulled out a pile of towels and washcloths then carried them into the bathroom setting them stacked on the shelving above the toilet. After closing the bathroom door she removed the clothes she had worn all day long. She felt pretty grubby after achieving the goal of getting her room done. The dirty clothes were tossed in the corner with the clean pajamas set atop the down toilet lid.

She turned off the water and stepped one foot followed by the other into the steaming water. The water felt good after spending most of the day working through the fall chill. The house's heating temporarily disabled because of an ill result from a local inspector. It was obvious the fireplaces would have to be relied on for a source of heat, she hoped.

Once submerged up to the neck in the heated water, she slipped the headphones over her ears to again drown out the silence with the use of good old Motley Crue. She closed her eyes and started humming to the heavy metal melody as her body warmed up. Her head did little short bobs as her submerged feet tapped against the bottom of the tub. It was the first time in days she had some alone time, peace and quiet without the rambunctious little problem running around like a hyper active mad child. Then her moment of being deafened by music was interrupted by loud chimes.

She quickly sat up and jerked the headphones from her ears. Her eyes frowned while shifting from side to side. She heard what sounded like clocks going off. The sounds were traditional coo-coos and loud chimes. She heard similar chimes once before at a friend's house which came from a huge grandfather's clock. And mingled with the grandfather clock chime were other different chimes and dings. She knew they were coming from within the house but where?

She grabbed the sides of the tub then pulled up and carefully stepped out the tub onto a towel laid out as a makeshift bath mat. The air was really chilled with no heat in the house. She grabbed the large faded blue towel, wrapped it over herself then tucked the corner and slowly opened the bathroom door. Her eyes peered out as she listened closely as the array of clock chimes faded in the distance.

Where did the sounds come from?

The only place she could think those eerie chimes came from was the basement and it was the one place she hadn't gone. There was no way in hell she was trekking into some dark and dank basement to investigate the source of those clock sounds.

She stepped back and closed the door then locked it. She thought the sounds were sort of creepy and almost ghostly. She returned to the bathtub, her teeth already chattered from the cold. Then again she placed the headphones over her ears but this time cranked up the music just in case any other eerie sounds wanted to pop up and spook her.

By the time Rose finished her bath, body scrubbed, hair washed and blow dried, her dad and brother had returned with a couple pizzas. She joined them in the kitchen, it too clustered with boxes on the floor and counter tops. They dove into the warm pizzas dining on paper plates and drank their sodas from the can.

"Dad," she spoke up as she chewed on a bite of pizza, "When you guys were gone I heard a shitload of clocks going off."

John frowned a bit in thought then it dawned on him and he stated, "Oh, I bet there's some clocks in the basement. The previous owner left their stuff and it's stored in the basement."

"It sounded more than just some clocks," she commented, "A shitload." She huddled with one arm wrapped over her while bundled under a thick robe with flannel pajama bottoms and sweatshirt underneath.

John shrugged, "Well, I'll be cleaning the basement out in the morning."

"Good," she commented then asked, "What about the heat?"

"Guys are supposed to be here tomorrow afternoon." John explained as he too felt the fall chill inside the house, "That's why I gotta empty the basement so they can get to the furnace."

"What about tonight?" she asked, hated the idea of freezing her butt off until the next night.

John shook his head, wasn't a magician, he couldn't just snap his fingers and bring the furnace to life. "You'll just have to bundle up in blankets." he suggested then took a hefty bite of pizza, "I don't know what else to tell ya." then suggested, "You could crawl in bed with Jacob and me for one night." He saw her face immediately grimace in response to his suggestion.

"Dad," she whined then rolled her eyes, "I ain't ten like someone else." she glanced at Jacob who basically showed her his mouthful of food which intensified her grimace. She asked, "What about the fireplaces?"

"Can't use them until they're inspected." John answered, tired of Rose's reluctance to suffer through one evening without heat.

"Damn it," she whined again and shook her head with frustration.

"Oh, quit whining, Rose." Jacob chimed in with his mouth overflowing with pizza.

"Shut up, shithead," she grumbled at the little annoying sibling, "Was I talking to you? No!"

"Rose, come on." John finally was fed up with his daughter constant attitude changes, "This is our first night in our new house. Let's give it a few days before you get all bent outta shape, okay."

"Ain't new," she corrected her dad, "It's old, run down, no heat, and just plain creepy." She grabbed another slice of pizza, tossed it on her paper plate then tucked a second can of soda in her robe's pocket, "I'm gonna go freeze my ass off in my room."

Rose left the kitchen before anymore could be said. She couldn't understand why her dad refused to see her point of view. There was no way she was going to be happy and perky like her little brother. She was practically an adult and had to pack up and leave everything she's ever known while Jacob had plenty time in his young life to adjust. She determined, before they left, that she was going back east when she turned eighteen, her dad didn't know her decision.

She marched up the stairs in her fluffy bunny slippers layered over thick socks. She shuffled over the landing and entered her bedroom. It was dark outside and lighting the room was the outside streetlamps that glowed through the drawn shades. She turned on the lamp set atop the bedside table, set down the pizza and soda, then marched to the closet and hauled out a thick quilt her mom made.

After layering the bed with the quilt, she went to the record stereo, removed a record from the box filled with her entire collection then slipped the vinyl from its cover and carefully set it onto the turntable.

"A little mood music," she softly laughed to herself then turned on the record player. With a little adjustment of the record arm the music of Def Leppard sounded through the rectangular speakers. She hurried back to the bed, climbed beneath the blankets then proceeded to enjoy her pizza and soda while humming to the rock melodies. Her first night in that old house and she froze even under the blankets, the pizza had already cooled and the soda was really cold.

"This sucks," she grumbled with a mouthful of pizza.

The soda can sat empty atop the bedside table along with the paper plate with one pizza crust edge. The bedroom was silent as was the rest of the house. The chilled breeze outside could be heard softly whistling through the gaps in the old wood window frames.

Rose lay beneath the bundle of blankets with just her sleeping face exposed to the chilly elements. The soft breaths that breathed from her slightly parted lips gradually became more and more visible as the room's temperature seemed to grow colder. Beneath her lids her eyes shifted from side to side then suddenly darted wide open in a startle.

Her eyes shifted as if in search for something. She nervously swallowed, swore she felt as if something was in the room watching her. Her head slowly lifted off the plush pillow, her eyes looked around the room that was quite dark with exception to the streetlight glowing through the drawn shades.

Maybe it was just a dream or the fact the house was creepy and old?

She felt the real iciness of the room, much colder than before she fell asleep.

Perhaps it was colder because it was really late and the outside temperature dropped more?

She slowly laid her head back down against the pillow and gathered the blankets over her head. "This place sucks," she grumbled from beneath the blankets.

_**(Author)**_

_**Yeah, I'm republishing these collection of fan fiction... I've updated and edited.. Did my research with the heavy metal music. Note: this particular story, Chris Sarandon was gifted the cover art done by yours truly... Yeah, met THE MAN and what an amazing man he IS. I truly hope that he maybe or sorta gave this particular story a read, at least this one, the beginning, for it'll explain the artwork. Well, enjoy if this is your first time reading and if your confused because you read this.. well you might give it another read for things have been added, adjusted, and hopefully made better!**_

_**FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The following day, it was basement clean up time.

The entire family of three pitched in to attempt clearing out the cluttered basement filled with the previous owner's belongings. Up and down the old cellar stairs and out onto the back lawn boxes upon boxes were stacked and placed.

Jacob basically ran up and down the old concrete steps as he carried what he could while John carried the heavier stuff which were large wooden crates and larger pieces of furniture.

Rose stumbled up the steps, lugged a few large paintings,"God, who was this guy" she commented then asked, "And what sorta shit did he collect?!" she coughed against the heavy dust while her dad moved passed then commented, "This is a bunch of old shit."

"Seriously, Rose," John shook his head then questioned, "Do you really need to say shit with every sentence?"

Rose paused and looked back at John with a grin and answered, "No, but I do because it's fun!" She laughed then dropped the three portraits atop the growing pile, portraits of different women.

She skipped back towards the basement entrance as she sang, "Shit, shit, and shit." She skipped back down into the basement just as Jacob shoved passed with a broken lamp, "Watch it, shithead." she grumbled and listened to him giggle.

She jumped down onto the basement floor then made her way to another random part of the basement. "Hey, Dad!" she called through the large space then loudly asked, "Why'd they leave all their shit!" She giggled since she said the word again, her dad grumbled in the distance.

"I don't know!" John's voice shouted back.

Rose planted her hands on her hips, looked around at all the scattered stuff. She crouched down and started digging around in a box. "I mean," she shouted, "Who in the heck leaves so much shit behind?!" she lifted out of the box a type of ivory rhinoceros looking horn with intricate designs, "Some of this shit looks pretty ancient."she turned the horn thing side to side studying it, "Maybe we can sell some of it."

"Quit saying shit!"John shouted.

She laughed again and set the horn down. She again dug into the box then lifted up what looked like another piece of ivory in the form of a pretty jewelry box. Her eyes brightened, she loved jewelry boxes, especially ones that looked old.

She set the jewelry box down then carefully lifted the lid, a sweet melody started to play. "Awe," she smiled, "It's a music box." then she said aloud, "Dibs." She grabbed box the music box was found in and dumped the contents onto the floor. She set the music box inside the emptied box.

She shouted, "Hey, Dad!"

"What?!" John's voice shouted back.

"Hey, Dad, can I keep some of this shit?!" she asked with another shout.

"Yeah, as long as you stop saying shit!" John called back as he carried another huge crate towards the basement entrance.

"Okay!" she agreed but most likely 'shit' would be said by the end of the day.

She grabbed the cardboard box with the music box inside then marched through the basement. She went up the steps as Jacob darted down. She grumbled at her brother then stepped outside and moved towards the pile to pick through the crates her dad brought up.

John commented, "You can pick through it later, after we get all of it out here." He made his way back to the basement.

Rose shrugged then went to the first wooden crate.

Inside her room, Dio played on the record player, Rose set the very delicate ivory music box beside her mother's wooden jewelry box. She stepped back, proud of her find. She had gone through just about everything her dad managed to haul outside before the furnace guys showed up. The basement still held plenty more of the previous owner's belongings. She was amazed with how much stuff the past owner had left behind. The house was warmer now that furnace worked, no need for layers upon layers of clothes. So, she walked around barefoot while wearing one of her many band tees and pajama bottoms.

She moved across the floor towards the window that faced the neighbors. Her dad mentioned that the single lady next door had a son. She reached and slowly lifted the shade, discovered there was a light on in the neighboring window. Her eyes, peering through her glasses, peered over at the neighboring window. She wondered what the neighboring son looked like. Be nice to have a cute guy next door, she thought.

She startled, saw a definite teen guy move passed the window obviously turning on the television. Oh, he wasn't bad looking, she thought and slightly smiled. Then he turned and startled the moment he saw her through the window and she startled in return.

She panicked and shouted, "Shit!" She quickly jerked down the shade but it snapped back up, forced her to quickly dart from the window and slam back against the poster image of Bret Michaels who looked like a beautiful woman in the Heavy Metal glam style.

She grimaced at her behavior. Great, she whined in thought, started her new high school the next morning and just made an ass out of herself.

"Shit," she pouted, crossed her arms over her chest covering the zombie image of Iron Maiden's mascot Eddie.

Rose lay on her back in the middle of the full sized bed with the blankets kicked down, the furnace worked damn good. She was sound asleep, gone to bed at her typical school night scheduled time, eleven.

The temperature in the room dropped.

As she lay there, her arms gathered up and hugged around her chest. Slowly her legs bent at the knees. Half asleep, she sluggishly sat up, her hands fumbled and reached for the blankets then, once gripped, she jerked them up as she flopped back down with her head dropped the pillow. She huddled beneath the sheet and comforter and slightly trembled in response to the quick drop in temperature. Passed her lips her breaths were visible.

The room chilled down to an icy degree.

"Suckee furnace," she sleepily mumbled with her teeth lightly chattering.

Suddenly her eyes snapped open, she heard what sounded like the melody of the ivory music box begin to play. She darted up with her eyes shifted towards the shadowed fireplace mantel.

The outside streetlight created heavy shadows throughout the room, made it creepy and the music box's sweet melody seemed to make it even creepier.

Reluctantly, she got out from under the blankets. The room was heavy with an icy chill. She cautiously brought bare her feet to the floor. Her eyes squinted, tried to focused on the ivory music box. Slowly, with further caution, she rose up off the bed then, with arms hugged around her, she walked towards the fireplace on bare tiptoes, hated the chill of the hardwood.

At the fireplace, her eyes widely stared at ivory music box. The lid to the music box was raised which explained why the melody played but how did it come open?

She quickly brought down the lid.

Oddly the room's temperature begin to rise.

She continued trembled more in response to the really creepy vibe she got. She teeth chattered as she whispered, "This house really sucks." She spun then literally leapt back onto the bed quickly and jerked the blankets over her head.

"Really, really sucks." her muffled and chattered voice whined.

_**(Author)**_

_**Yep, first chapter was longer, that's because I'm trying make it run smoother than with for lump some chapters! Have you caught any differences yet? Ignore that question if you have read this before! :D**_

_**FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA!**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The next morning Rose had to fight for the only bathroom in the house to get ready for her first day of at a new high school hell. Still a bit creeped out by the little music box incident, she never mentioned it to her dad, knew he had his own issues with nervousness about his first day as the new boss of the local factory.

Jacob was dropped off at his elementary school then Rose was brought to the high school where her dad handed her transfer papers and instructed she had to report immediately to the office.

Rose got out of the huge station wagon. Before her a high school swarmed by teenaged strangers, she loathed being the new kid. She stood there as the station wagon drove off, she was left to go it alone. She took a deep breath then stepped forward, nearly ran into a few of her new peers who just grimaced at her.

Yep, gonna hate it there, she thought to herself.

Rose sat on the bench in the high school office as she held her past school records and transfer papers. People strolled and paid her no mind. She already heard both the warning and first class bells go off which meant she was late for her first class, whatever that was.

Finally the woman behind the counter waved for Rose to step up.

She rose up and stepped to the counter then handed over all her information, been in the same school system all her seventeen years.

"Okay, Miss Garrett, here is your class schedule." the woman behind the desk explained then handed Rose the single sheet of paper. The woman's eyes quickly shifted, "Charley Brewster!" she snapped, her keen eye caught a late arrival and perfect candidate to show the new girl to her first class.

"Charley Brewster!" the woman repeated with stern and watched eighteen year old senior Charley Brewster shrug with his head dropped back, "That's it, come here!"

Rose turned her head. Her eyes went wide for it was her neighbor guy. She quickly turned her head, felt her face begin to blush.

"Hey, Mrs. Trimble," Charley Brewster greeted the stern faced office head. He was late again and hoped he would have gotten by the office without being called out. He attempted an excuse, "Sorry I'm late, again, but I had car troubles and my Mom…"

Mrs. Trimble interrupted Charley's excuse, "I'll let it slide, this time."

"Ah, thanks," Charley sighed in relief.

"But," Mrs. Trimble grinned, watched Charley's relief quickly diminish and explained, "On the account if you show Miss Garrett to her first class that you are no doubt late for, Mr. Brewster."

Charley looked to his left at the new arrival. There she was, his new neighbor that practically scared the shit out of him when he saw her in that all too ominous neighboring window.

Rose reluctantly looked to her right at Charley, "Hi," she awkwardly greeted, saw he recognized her from the window.

"Well," Mrs. Trimble spoke up, "Show her to her class or we could arrange after school detention, Mr. Brewster."

"Okay, Mrs. Trimble," Charley somewhat grumbled then rolled his eyes, "Come on."

Charley waved for Rose to follow him. He continued to shake his head as he stepped out of the office, "God, I hate that woman." he commented, more so to himself but heard Rose giggle at his comment. He turned his head and looked to his new neighbor. He thought she was cute in an awkward sorta way dressed in an obvious rock and roll inspired style. He asked, "You just moved in next door to me, right?"

The hallways were empty with exception to a couple late stragglers.

Charley continued to speak, "My Mom mentioned she met your dad and little brother."

"Yeah," answered Rose as simply as possible.

He asked, made an effort, "How you liking it here so far?" He couldn't imagine anyone living in the house that her family now lived in. For a year he had fought to set aside what happened within those walls of 99 Oak, so had most of the city. He had no desire to bring it up.

"I don't know," she answered though she actually hated it, "I don't know anyone, yeah, so it really sucks."

"It ain't all bad." he stated though there was some serious bad stuff he personally knew but was desperate to forget, "Everything's pretty quiet." Yeah, he thought, now that something wasn't around.

"I don't like the house." she confessed and added, "It's old and creepy. Like something out of some cheesy vampire flicks or something like it."

He momentarily froze, hated her comment, vampires. He shook it off. "Yeah, it's not too pretty to look at." he agreed. Every time he looked at the damned house it always made him remember those nightmarish things that happened a year ago.

"Tell me about it." she huffed then curiously asked, "Hey, do you know anything about the previous owners because they sure left a shitload of stuff behind."

He paused, reluctantly looked at her then quickly shook his head, "Nah, they didn't live there long." he was vague with his explanation. Nope, no details he wanted to share.

"They?" she curiously asked and almost bumped into him when he went to a stop before a closed classroom door.

"Yeah," again he vaguely stated and quickly changed the unwanted subject, "Well, we're here." he aimed his thumb at the class door, "Mr. Green is cool and pretty much has us silently reading while he sleeps." He didn't want to speak about 99 Oak any more, actually, never again. He swung open the door and was greeted loudly by Mr. Green the Lit teacher

"Late again, Charley!"

Nope, Rose didn't make any friends besides the cute Charley Brewster who barely spoke to her the rest of the day while he and his apparent girlfriend shared lunch together. She quietly sat huddled at the end of one of the large tables and picked at the typical high school food.

She was anxious to get home which meant she had to wait for her dad at the high school curb. When the wagon arrived, she didn't say a word when she got into the station wagon. Her brother already picked up, he babbled on and on about all the friends he made.

Rose and Jacob were dropped off at home for John had to return to the factory.

Yep, Rose thought, now she had to babysit her annoying brother.

She paused on the walkway as her dad drove off and noticed a nice red Mustang parked in the neighboring driveway. Well, at least Charley Brewster had his own car, she grumbled in thought.

She shrugged and reluctantly took the responsibility of keeping an eye on Jacob who immediately raced to the kitchen for an after school snack. She retreated upstairs to drop off her loaded down book bag then returned downstairs to get herself a Coke as Jacob already messed with the old console television.

She flopped down on the sofa as Jacob sat before the television hypnotized by after school cartoons. She lifted a heavy metal magazine before her eyes to block out the television, an image of the proclaimed prince of darkness Ozzy on the cover. She had her headphones over her ears to block out the sounds of Bugs Bunny with the thrashing sounds of the killer vocals of Judas Priest's lead singer Rob Halford.

Finished with an in depth article about the German band Scorpions, one of her all time favorites, Rose set the magazine down and stood up to fetch another Coke. She moved through the house and hummed in tune with Halford's powerful vocals. She entered the kitchen then through the headphones she heard that loud array of clocks go off in the basement. She pulled the headphones back and frowned. Her eyes looked up at the clock hung on the kitchen wall, it was six. Her eyes shifted and passed the kitchen window above the sink showed it was a tad beyond dusk.

The chimes and coo-coos faded, the power went out.

She startled then heard Jacob shout for her from the living room. "It's okay!" she shouted back, "This house is old, shithead, and a fuse probably blew!"

She somewhat blindly moved through the kitchen, bumped the table then a chair and felt her way to the counter. She fumbled around, heard Jacob call out to her again, "Hold on!" she shouted, "I'm gonna find a flashlight!" She found the drawers, pulled each one open along the line of the counter and dug her hands inside each one to feel for a flashlight. Her fingers finally struck gold.

She grabbed the flashlight then lifted it and hit the switch. The beam shined in her face and caused her to winch.

She used the flashlight to guide her from the kitchen then through the house. She returned to the living room and shined the beam of light on her brother and asked, "You okay, shithead?"

Jacob lifted his hand to block the light from his eyes.

"You stay put and I'll go down into the basement and see if I can get the lights back on." she explained and watched him nod as he looked a bit frightened. She didn't blame him since the house was creepier shrouded in complete darkness.

She took a deep breath and marched through the house, moved through the dining room and stepped to the closed basement door. Another deep breath, she opened the door and shined the light down the curved stairwell that led into probably the worst place to go in that old dark house. She stepped down and carefully moved down the stairwell on bare feet, desperate not to freak herself out. She hated the smell of old basements, the dust, mold, and other old basement smells.

Her bare foot dropped down on the concrete floor at the bottom of the stairs and she scanned the flashlight beam through that eerie creepiness. She had a vision of a huge monstrous fuse box as she stepped further into that darkness filled space. A creepy feeling raised goose bumps over her exposed arms. The house steadily got chilly since the furnace was shut off by the blown fuse which increased the feel of those goose bumps.

She felt lost in that huge basement, found the dead furnace and all that remained of the belongings of the previous owner. The flashlight reflected off something and she squinted through her glasses, saw a slightly exposed something that stood tall near the far wall. She moved toward the dusty sheet covered something and caught a peak of reflective gold. She reached out, grabbed the sheet then pulled back and unveiled a standing grandfather clock.

She nodded, she was right when she recognized the low sounding chime typical of grandfather clocks.

She again scanned the flashlight in search for the fuse box. "Come on, where the hell are ya?" she mumbled under her breath, felt the temperature steadily get colder. Damned house must have some serious drafts, she guessed.

She excitedly stated, "Gotchya!" she grinned then shuffled forward but stumbled, ran into a box which toppled over and spilled its unsealed contents. She darted the light down, discovered an array of music cassettes. She crouched down and picked up one of those unlabeled cassettes. Upon further inspection each cassette was the same, all unlabeled, "Huh." She tossed the cassettes back into the box then lifted the box off the floor. Got herself more music, she sang in thought, maybe.

She stepped to the fuse box, propped the flashlight under her chin then opened the squeaky metal door and eyed the inside. Her lips puckered as she eyed what were circuit breakers which was better than damned fuses. She reached to what looked like the main breaker then with a little struggle she flipped the breaker and her brother's loud cheers sounded down into the basement.

"Damn straight," she proudly stated, brought light and warmth back to the old house.

_**(Author)**_

_**My suggestion, whenever you come across any song and band names, give them a listen to help create a soundtrack while you read this. That's how I write!**_

_**FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA!**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Around eight John returned home bearing a feast of burgers and fries from the local burger joint. All three sat down at the dining room table and feasted on the greasy burgers and equally greasy fries which were also overly salted. Rose proudly stated her night's achievement, rescued her and Jacob from hours of sitting in darkness.

Near nine John tucked Jacob into bed.

Rose retreated to the bathroom to enjoy another soak and investigated her find from the basement.

She sat immersed in steaming hot water up over her bust, slipped one of the unlabeled cassettes into her Walkman then hit play and tucked the headphones over her ears. Her eyes frowned, heard what was instrumental music, electronic instrumental music with keyboards and what sounded like an electric violin, no vocals.

She checked another cassette and it too had similar instrumental music. Over and over she discovered each cassette had the same type of music. The last cassette was played, she frowned more for it sounded like an instrumental version of the ivory music box's melody but unlike the other songs there was a type of vocal, sounded haunting. She listened further, heard the high pitch of an electric violin that struck higher and higher with powerful notes and melody. She turned off the Walkman, removed the cassette then tossed it into the box. Into the Walkman was placed one of her typical metal favorites. She relaxed back against the slant of the large soaker claw foot tub.

Rose said goodnight to her dad who sat in the living room with the news on while he was buried deep in business papers. She carried the box of cassettes upstairs. Inside her bedroom she set the box near the box of records. She stepped to the bedside table, switched on the lamp then set down her glasses.

She suddenly startled, swore something moved from the corner of her eye. She spun and her eyes shifted side to side and scanned the room. Her eyes continued to frown as they anxiously looked to every corner of the room.

The room temperature dropped, seemingly at a rapid pace.

She hugged her arms over her chest in response to the chill and quickly started to shiver as she stood perfectly still within the silence of her room and the entire house. Not even the television was heard.

She pried her feet off the floor and shuffled anxiously to the double doors. When the door opened, she shouted, "Dad, is the heat on?" She felt the heat just outside the door then her dad confirmed with a shout that heat was definitely on.

Reluctantly she stepped back and closed the door. Something really weird was up with her bedroom and she didn't like it. Maybe, she thought, it was a draft through the fireplace.

She moved to the fireplace and reached a hand down but felt no draft. She again huddled her arms about her. Her eyes drifted upward and looked to the ivory music box. She took a step back with her eyes focused on the music box. Her mind scrambled with so many scenarios that might explain what was oddly happening.

In the past two years since Anne Garrett's passing, Rose had gotten somewhat desperate for a type of resolution concerning her mom.

Her head darted and eyes looked to the closet. Her feet scrambled across the floor. She flung open the door then lifted up on her tiptoes and reached up to the closet's top shelf. Her hand tucked under a quilt and grabbed a somewhat flat box. She dropped down on her feet then turned to the bed. She crawled atop the bed, gathered and wrapped the floral comforter over her shoulders.

Her eyes looked down at the worn cardboard box of what looked like a board game but not just any ordinary board game, an Ouija board to be exact. She removed the lid and looked down at a traditional Ouija board with an eye shape form of the alphabet, yes and no at the top corners, hello and goodbye at the bottom corners, and within that lettered eye zero through nine. She lifted the board then slid the box back and rested the board before her. She reached and removed the planchett and set it in the center of the board.

Many times she desperately tried to communicate with her departed mother but stopped after a year. Was she possibly being contacted by her mom or was it something in that house?

She anxiously shook her hands, tired to loosen up her fingers then wiggled them nervously as she neared them towards the planchett. She trembled from the cold and nervousness.

Before her fingertips could touch the planchett, it suddenly budged which caused her to lean back with a startled gasp. Her wide eyes rapidly blinked. Had she imagined it?

She again gasped with startle as it again moved. She hadn't even spoken a word or asked a question or even touched the thing. Her eyes shifted with the planchett which slowly turned to the left. She was frozen with fear, never saw a single movement from it in all the times she attempted to use it. She leaned further back and pressed against the metal headboard. Her eyes grew wider as they followed the planchett.

The planchett inched slowly as it turned itself upside down with the point aimed at a downward angle.

Her lips trembled while lightly gaped. Her breath was visible as it struck the icy air. Her eyes darted.

The planchett suddenly scraped across the board then skidded and stopped over 'hello'.

What the hell was happening?! Was she seeing what she was seeing?!

"Ah," she mumbled and fearfully neared her trembling right hand towards the stopped planchett, "Ah, um…hello…" Her fingertips finally touched the planchett and it felt just as icy as the air. She anxiously licked her lips then pressed them together as she dared and brought her left fingertips against the planchett.

"Ah, hello," she greeted with her voice shaky and dared to ask, "Um, Mom?" Again startled, she jerked her hands back.

The planchett darted diagonally up the board stopping over 'no'.

"Ah, ah," she mumbled, her body trembled uncontrollably and again she dared, brought both sets of fingertips to the planchett. She again greeted, "Ah, again, hello," she then asked, "Do I, um, know you?" This time she didn't startle when it moved, her fingertips barely touched it.

The planchett made a quick jerk down then darted back over the 'no'.

"Okay, well," she spoke, tried to calm her nerves then asked, "Was this your house?" She gasped when it again moved.

The planchett delivered her fingertips across the board to 'yes'.

"Okay," she gave a short nod, "Ah, the stuff in the basement…" before she could finish the question the planchett again moved.

The planchett swiftly moved back then darted over 'yes'.

"Huh," she somewhat laughed, had a mind reader for a ghost, "So, obviously you're dead and that's why your stuff is in the basement." Great, she thought, someone died in the house.

The planchett again did its quick movements and agreed with her mental note, landed back over 'yes'.

She swiftly pulled her hands back, did not liked the idea that who or whatever it was that was speaking through the Ouija could read her next thought. Her eyes stared widely at the planchett, terrified of even thinking anything. Maybe it was a bad idea that she whipped out the Ouija.

"Alright, whoever you are," she started to speak but silenced as the planchett again moved.

Her eyes darted, tried to keep pace with the swiftly moving planchett. Her mind gathered each letter it pointed to, apparently it was introducing itself. Her eyes frowned as the letters formed a name in her head then spoke it aloud, "Jerry."

The planchett darted to 'yes'.

"Um, hi," she swallowed hard, "Ah, Jerry." She startled again.

The planchett darting to 'hello'.

"Yeah, maybe we should say goodbye now, Jerry." she spoke as she breathed heavily, her breaths still visible. Her eyes frowned.

The planchett went to 'no'.

"Um, yeah," she nodded and thought, was she seriously gonna argue with a damned Ouija board?

Suddenly the planchett started to move in rapid circles against the board.

Her eyes tried to keep watch then she gasped the moment the planchett flew off the board. "Oh, that's not good," she mumbled, realized she made a terrible mistake having messed with the Ouija board and was beyond creeped out by what had come through it.

_A planchett leaves the board on its own accord; the speaking spirit is released._

She quickly grabbed the board, crammed it into the box then reached and frightfully snatched the planchett, tossed it atop the board then placed the lid back on. She rushed and literally tossed the so called spirit board game into the closet then slammed the door.

Her breathes continued heavy but gradually became invisible as the room's temperature raised. She sighed with relief then looked to her bed. She really didn't want to sleep in that room alone.

She whined, "Oh, this is going to be a long night."

She knew she couldn't go downstairs and explain to her dad she messed with an Ouija board he never knew about and she really didn't want to sleep in her own bed. She stepped to the bed then sat down and looked around the room.

"Okay," she spoke aloud, "Maybe you're not still in here because the cold is gone but, please, if you're still here just go away and don't come back, okay, Jerry whoever you are."

She lifted her legs, shifted on her rear and pulled back the sheet. Very cautiously she slipped her legs under the sheet then gathered the comforter over her. Her eyes continued to look about the room., afraid to turn out the lamp and refused to do so.

"Just go away," she whispered, tucked the blanket over her head, "Go away."

The lamp atop the bedside table lamp started to flicker, first very subtly then gradually dimmed and brightened with a type of strange pulse. The bedroom started to cool, dropped degree by degree in sync with the lamp's pulses.

Hours had passed, Rose had fallen asleep with her head covered but upon the lamp's rapid pulses the blanket slowly lowered under her squinting eyes. She peered at the lamp. Immediately she felt the drop in temperature then when her whole head was uncovered her breaths were visible. Her eyes blinked against the pulsated dimming and brightening flashes. Her eyes slowly shifted and looked across her room.

The lamp started to dim all way into darkness then suddenly brightened, created a strobe effect.

She slowly sat up as her eyes tried to focus where the short entryway was, the room again was freezing. Before her strained and blinking eyes, she caught what looked like a black silhouette that formed at the entryway.

Was she dreaming? Was she having a nightmare?

The cold felt damned real and so did the quick visuals of her breaths.

Her body started to tremble as her eyes were frozen in a stare. Each quick flash of light seemed to bring that silhouette more into a human shape.

Suddenly the bulb in the lamp made a loud pop and the room was swallowed by darkness.

She screeched and quickly dropped back and ducked under the covers.

She lay there under the covers which seemed like forever. Her body continued to tremble as she listened to her deep and erratic breaths. Everything was too quiet, eerily quiet with only the sound of her breathing. She was too frightened to actually pull back the covers, afraid she'd see something even more frightening.

"Go away," she whispered with a tremble with her eyes squeezed tightly closed.

She startled the moment that damned ivory music box started to chime its now creepy melody. "Go away," she spoke a bit louder, brought her hands over her ears and tried to block out the eerie tune.

She started to hum loudly one of her metal tunes and gradually started to sing the words to the song We're Not Gonna Take It by Twisted Sister in desperation to drown out the music box. "_We're not gonna take it_," she sang, "_No, we ain't gonna take it_," she continued to sing, "_We got the right to chose it_…_and there ain't no way we're gonna lose it" s_he hummed then started to sing again, "_We're not gonna take it... No, we ain't gonna take it anymore._"

She went silent, the music box stopped. She slowly sat up and inched down the blankets from over her head. Her eyes pried open, first the right then the left. Through the room her eyes scanned, tried to catch any glimpse of anything remotely really scary like that silhouette. She felt the temperature again begin to warm.

Maybe it went away, she hoped.

She guessed with a shrug. Who knew that Twisted Sister warded of a ghost?

She slowly laid back, her trembling hands loosened their grip of the blankets. Her eyes peered up at the ceiling as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She carefully rolled onto her side and tugged the covers over her shoulder. She lay there, her eyes stared at the closet door with hopes that whatever just happened would never happen again.

Maybe she should get rid of the board. Maybe she shouldn't have screwed with the board in the first place.

Her eyes shifted and looked the white ivory music box.

Maybe she should've thrown the music box out with the other stuff instead of confiscating it.

"No," a voice spoke.

Her entire body stiffened with fear. Did she just hear that?

"Yes," there it was again.

She felt the urge to scream but was too scared to scream. Her body remained stiff while she started trembling again. She couldn't tell where those answers came from but they were answering her mental questions, just like the board did. That couldn't be possible, she tried to convince herself.

"Ah, but it is." the voice again spoke from somewhere in the room.

"Go away!" she said with a raised whisper.

"I can't." the voice again spoke.

"Yes you can." she disagreed then pleaded, "Just go away, please."

"I would if I could." the voice replied.

She breathed heavily through her nose, her nostrils flared as her eyes remained wide and almost teary with fear. "Why not?" she asked. Seriously, she asked in thought, was she having a conversation with a damned ghost?

"Because I'm stuck here and I'm always going to be stuck here." the voice answered her verbal question then answered her mental one, "And yes you are."

She heard actual angry frustration in the voice. "Well, leave me alone then." she suggested, refused to shift her eyes or move at all.

"You shouldn't have said hello." the voice commented.

"You said it first." she quickly argued, "You shouldn't have said hello and," she tossed back her covers then slowly sat up and commented, "You shouldn't have taken the planchett off the board."

"Ah, but I did." the voice stated, "I knew what I was doing because if I hadn't I wouldn't be speaking to you right now."

"Oh, then you're a bad ghost." she commented without shifting her eyes, kept them forward.

"Perhaps," the voice said, "If you didn't want to speak to me then you shouldn't have brought out the spirit board."

"But you were already here." she stated, couldn't determine where the voice came from then accused, "You've been making it get cold and you've been playing the music box and you caused the breaker to trip when those clocks went off." she gave a nod, "So, I had nothing to do with why you're here just only why you're talking to me, that's all."

"No, you aren't the reason why I'm stuck." again the voice spoke with the sound of frustration, "I'm stuck because I died in that damned basement."

She suddenly startled, heard one of the window shades dart up. She finally shifted her eyes and looked to find the neighbor facing window's shade up. "Stop it," she slightly whined.

"He's why I'm stuck, why I'm dead." the voice said with a growth of rage.

"Charley Brewster, my neighbor?" she asked, confused and not sure if she wanted to know any more details, "I don't wanna know." She shook her head, decided that details weren't wanted or desired.

"Ah, but I finally have someone to tell it to." the voice stated, "Don't take that away from me, Rose."

She slightly gasped, heard it speak her name.

"I've been stuck here for a damned year while that little son of a bitch goes on living." the voice explained with bitterness, "He and that damned Peter Vincent," the voice seemingly growled, "How they managed to do it, it dumbfounds me to this day." the voice grew angrier, "I know how but I'm baffled how they managed to do it. They actually killed _me_!"

The room's temperature rapidly plummeted.

"I don't wanna hear anymore." she shook her head as her eyes fearfully scanned the room for any physical sign of where the voice came from. She could again see her breath in the subtle darkness. Her arms lifted and hugged over her chest. "Please just go away." she pleaded, "I'm sorry I spoke to you. I won't mess with the board again I promise."

"I'm not sorry you spoke to me and there is no need for the board is there?" the voice questioned then stated, "Once the planchett went off the spirit board I was freed of most limitations." then it oddly thanked her, "Thank you, Rose."

"No, don't thank me." she shook her head again, "I ain't thanking me." then commented, "I made a huge mistake now I'm paying for it. Why couldn't you've been my Mom instead of whoever you are?"

"Jerry Dandridge," the voice spoke the full name then commented out of context, "You look like your mother."

"Huh," she mumbled, "What?"

"The photo, your mother," the voice of Jerry Dandridge explained, the voice of Charley Brewster's neighbor vampire long believed completely destroyed.

That fateful morning Jerry Dandridge was delivered into a type of purgatory where he was condemned to be a permanent spectral resident of his final home.

"She was very beautiful." he commented as through his spectral eyes he studied the framed photo of Rose's mother set atop the fireplace mantel. His eyes shifted. He looked to the searching young lady and commented, "As you are beautiful."

Oh great, Rose grumbled in thought, a ghost was complimenting her. She heard a laugh. "Stop that," she demanded then asked, "Why ya gotta read my thoughts? How the hell are ya reading my thoughts?" she then whined, "Oh, this sucks, really sucks."

"Think of my situation," he commented, "I'm stuck in a house I never had a chance to finish restoring while everything I've collected is thrown out besides the few things you've kept. Now it's been made that I've never even existed when I've existed a lot longer than anyone in this pathetic little town, state, or even country."

She blinked, confused by what the hell he tried to say. "Go away!" she shouted then flopped back and jerked the covers back over her head, "You don't exist! You're a stupid bad dream! I'll wake up tomorrow and you won't be here!"

"No I won't," he agreed, "Not until the clocks go off." then he grumbled, "Can't believe I have to suffer the same damned routine in death as I did in life."

She jerked the blankets off her face with her eyes frowned, "What?!"

"When the clocks chime dusk here I am and when they chime dawn there I go." he explained with annoyance, "The same as when I was alive. This is my hell and now you're part of it."

"No I'm not!" she disagreed, "You're dead, I'm not and what are you talking about?!" She again sat up.

"Charley didn't mention me did he?" he asked, stood leaned against the fireplace and watched her shake her head, "Oh but of course he didn't. Why would he? I'm positive the entire town won't even mention me to you or your family. I know the realtor sure in the hell didn't mention me to your father. She probably made it sound as if I up and vanished without word and left all my belongings." he shook his head with frustration, "How I used to love my solitude, kept to myself and did everything to make sure no one truly knew I existed. Well, I got what I wanted for the only ones who remember me are Charley Brewster, Amy Peterson, and that washed up Peter Vincent but," he slightly smiled, "Now you will remember me."

"I don't want to," she quickly stated, "And you're not even answering any of my questions. Wait, don't." she shook her head, "Just stop talking to me and go away."

"Again, I'm not going anywhere because I can't." he grimaced, crossed his arms over his chest, "Ask Charley about his previous neighbor Jerry Dandridge and see what reaction you get. Maybe he'll say something or maybe he won't. Most likely he's been desperate to forget about me, the little bastard. I should've just taken him out of the equation when I truly had the chance instead of messing around."

"Oh, you are bad." she gasped, fearfully jerked the covers nearer her chest, "What did ya do to him?" she again shook her head, "Wait, I need to stop asking questions because I don't wanna know anything about ya."

"Too late, you asked." he smirked, "I guess it doesn't make a difference if you know what I am or should I say, was because, well, I'm dead."

He stepped away from the fireplace and continued to relieve his silence, "What I tried to do to Charley Brewster was eliminate a problem, my problem. I did, however, give him the option to forget about me and what he had seen of me but unfortunately he didn't take that option which left me no choice to make an attempt on his life. Typically I don't make attempts, I succeed but as fate has it, I didn't succeed which undoubtedly made him succeed, hence, I'm dead." he paused before the bed, "Charley discovered my secret, a secret I've successfully kept for a very, very long time. Sure, there have been other close calls but nonetheless the secret was kept."

He frustratingly huffed, "He tried desperately to convince people of my secret but most thought he was simply a lunatic teenager. He even attempted to alert the police but thankfully that failed. Even Peter Vincent didn't believe at first. His girlfriend," he paused and grinned in remembrance of sweet and innocent Amy with an all too familiar face, "Yes, his girlfriend and best friend didn't believe him and did their best to convince him that I wasn't what he said I was. Peter was the first to be convinced because of a little mirror. I took every precaution necessary. I brought the best friend to my side then focused on the girlfriend. Everything I did to maintain my secret was done in vain because, here I am stuck." His eyes scanned the walls that were once beautifully tasteful and hung with those lovely portraits but now cluttered over by long haired musicians wearing feminine makeup, "Likely, stuck forever inside these walls."

"Okay, you told me whatever so now get lost!" she said then again flopped backwards and tugged the covers back over her head.

He snapped, "I'm already lost!" Then with just the focus of his eyes he stole her hiding place.

She gasped loudly, the covers were jerked off her. Her eyes went wide and she quickly asked, "How'd you do that?"

"Like I said," he spoke with a smirk, "I am now void of most limitations."

"Bullshit," she commented and sat up again, "If you were then why can't I see you?"

"Do you want to see me?" he curiously asked with hope, "Would you like to see the bad ghost you've been conversing with?"

"Actually, no I don't." she refused then shook her head, "That'll just make it worse."

"Might make it better." he smugly stated.

She frowned, heard his arrogance then again refused, "No," she shook her head, "I already don't wanna hear you so, no, I don't wanna see you." she snatched her covers, again flopped down against the bed and jerked the covers over her head, "Goodbye, Jerry Dandridge!" Again her covers were jerked off her.

"Stop that!" she whined then snatched the covers again but that bothersome something seemed to have a hold of them and she demanded, "Let go!" she grumbled, "Gah, this is nuts!" She grabbed a pillow, flopped down then gathered her legs up and covered her head with the pillow.

From beneath the pillow, she loudly stated, "I'm officially shit crazy!"

"No, you're not." he commented with a little laugh then stepped around the corner of the bed and along the side, "But I do question your taste in music, if that's what you call it."

"I can say the same about you." she mumbled as she kept her head hidden under the pillow. She commented, "Your music is creepy like you are."

"Strange," he frowned, "I've never been called creepy." he stated as he looked down at her poor attempt to block him out then smugly stated, "In fact, most young ladies, actually all women of any age even men have always found me irresistible."

She somewhat laughed then sarcastically commented,"Yeah, too bad no one can see you."

He slyly offered, "I'll let you see me." His lips formed his signature slanted grin.

"No thanks," she refused with her voice somewhat muffled under the pillow then urged, "Again, go away before my Dad wakes up and thinks I've lost my damned mind!"

"I'm not going anywhere, can't and won't." he firmly stated then added, "I spent a year in this house alone, besides the occasional urban legend seekers but they stopped months ago. So," he sat down on the edge of the bed, "Now that my voice is being heard, I refuse to relinquish this opportunity."

She felt the distinct motion as if someone had sat down and quickly asked, "You're sitting on my bed aren't you?"

"Yes I am," he answered then urged her, "If you would, uncover your head."

"No," she again refused.

"I would like for you to see who you've been speaking to, see your ghost and know you're not insane." he urged then leaned back against the headboard, "Please, it'll be nice to finally have someone look at me instead of through me." he somewhat attempted sympathy, "I have spent my entire life having young ladies such as yourself immediately look at me and unable to stop looking at me." He missed his life which seemed shorter than expected though he was approximately a thousand years old when his immortal life was taken.

"You sound conceded." she commented then smartly added, "You're full of yourself or was or whatever."

"There is nothing wrong knowing how attractive you are." he stated with confidence of his abundance of attractiveness, "I promise you won't be disappointed if you take just a peek."

She grumbled under the pillow, "I need sleep, unlike you, I have to get up in the morning; again, unlike you." she continued to sarcastically grumble, "I have a life unlike you. Yeah, just vanish already."

He shook his head then rose up off the bed, "Fine," he faked disappointment, "I'll leave you to your sleep." His eyes focused on her as he kept silent. He watched closely as she finally lifted the pillow off her head, obviously believed he vanished as she requested.

She slowly sat up with her eyes shifting as her hands reached for the covers. She didn't hear another word. Had she been dreaming? Was she just waking up from a really annoying dream or was it a nightmare?

Slowly she shifted on her rear, brought the covers over her. Very cautiously she started to shift onto her right side with her head following then eyes. Her eyes caught up with her body then she startled with a short screech. She scrambled backwards across the bed. Backwards she dropped off the bed and hit the floor with a thud, her legs were left awkwardly up and against the side of the bed.

She groaned, on her back on the floor then heard an amused laugh. "Why?!" she asked with a loud pout in her tone, "Why did you do that?! I said I didn't want to see you!"

She dropped her legs to the floor then sat up and groaned, "You scared the shit out of me, again!" She refused to get back onto the bed, didn't want to look at him again though she really didn't get a good look which was the way she wanted it to remain.

"Damn you, just leave me the hell alone!" she whined then leaned back against the wall with her arms tightly crossed over her chest.

"Yes, I'm damned." he agreed, looked down at her.

She shook her head, sick and tired of him talking to her. She grumbled, "That's it!"

She quickly rose up, scrambled onto the bed then crawled across it and snatched the Walkman off the bedside table. She put the headphones over her ears, pressed the play button, and turned the volume to the max, "Make him go away, Mr. Rob Halford!" she pleaded then flopped on her side then grabbed the covers and hiked them over her head as she listened to the British steel metal god deafen her to anymore unwanted babbles from a dead guy. She hummed to the music, loved the melody of Turbo Lover.

Beneath the covers she hugged the Walkman against her chest, tightly closed her eyes and wanted nothing but to fall asleep and wake in the morning where there would be no ghost bothering her

_**(Author)**_

_**Blah, Blah, Blah! HAHA! I just crack up when I read this stuff again!**_

_**FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA!**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"Rose!" a voice shouted down at her.

"Go away," Rose grumbled, the cassette had stopped upon the side ending.

"Rose, get up or you'll be late for school on your second day." John jerked the blankets off his daughter who loudly groaned, "Get your butt outta bed. You have fifteen minutes!"

Rose slowly rolled until her feet hit the floor. Sleepily she rose up. It was all a horrible nightmare, so she hoped. She sluggishly gathered up some clothes and book bag then made her sleepy way downstairs to the bathroom.

When she finally came out of the bathroom both her brother and father stood at the front door, both with their arms crossed impatiently waiting for her. Her head leaned back and shoulder slumped as she shuffled to the door. She adjusted the heavy book bag against her shoulder then followed John and Jacob out the door. She was so damned tired, just as if she spent far too long being tormented by a damned ghost.

In her first hour she spent it with her head down against the desktop, Mr. Green paid no mind while there were numerous other students asleep in his class.

Charley Brewster noticed Rose's sleepiness and tried his best to ignore it. He thought, perhaps another visit with his therapist after school to help ease his concerns.

By lunch hour Rose was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep the rest of the day away. She napped during lunch instead of eating the slopped mashed potatoes, water soaked corn, and something that looked like meat in gravy.

The rest of the day crept by until she was called to the office towards the end of the final hour. She dragged herself to the office where Mrs. Trimble informed her that she was to walk home or take the bus and that her brother was staying after school at a friend's, her father wasn't picking her up.

She simply nodded with a sluggish 'okay' then stepped into the hallway just as the final bell rang. She headed straight for the nearest exit. She marched down the front steps and began the march back home. Yet, when she walked into the center of that town, her eyes looked to the directional sign for the local public library. Had she dreamed that she talked to some psychotic really annoying ghost? She had a name, that name stuck in her head. Maybe it was just something in the dream.

She stepped to the left and followed the signs that led her to the public library.

Rose stepped out of the library, looked pretty pale but not from exhaustion, because she found stuff she didn't want to find inside all those local newspaper archives. Her brain was on overload.

The name that supposed dream gave, Jerry Dandridge. Well, he had definitely lived in her house. The creepy ghost of her new home, 99 Oak, was the ghost of a man assumed a serial killer who lopped the heads off his victims with the help of some guy named Billy Cole.

Her entire body felt numb as she stood for a brief moment before the library. She was fearful of going home to that house to be alone with a dead murderer. Under a deep breath she whined, "I don't wanna," Then she forced her Converses forward. She really had no desire to spend any time alone in that house.

Maybe she just had a psychic dream and there was no ghost, she hoped. Yeah, maybe that was it, she again hoped.

She paused halfway down the library steps.

What about the names her nightmare ghost guy gave her besides Charley Brewster's, names briefly mentioned in those many articles? Late night horror host Peter Vincent and Charley's girlfriend Amy Peterson was vaguely mentioned.

But, wait, she frowned in thought of something else. The papers said nothing about the assumed serial killer Jerry Dandridge dying in the house. The papers only said he vanished without a trace.

Oh, her head started to hurt with all the confusion everything she was being subjected with. She desperately tried not to think anymore about any of it and started her walk back to the Oak Street neighborhood.

There she stood before the three story monster of a house, her eyes stared up at it. It looked so much more damned creepier since she knew too much. She took a deep breath and stepped onto the porch. It neared five which meant she had an hour to prepare for a possible return of something that may or may not have been a damned nightmare.

She entered the house, felt the warmth the furnace produced. Up the stairs she sluggishly moved then entered her room, the heavy book bag tossed to the floor. She removed her jacket then went to the bed and grabbed the Walkman off the table. She plopped, down removed Judas Priest then tucked it into the bedside table drawer. She fetched her Dio cassette, the album Last in Line, and tucked it into the Walkman.

She laid back, slipped the headphones over her ear then hit play. Her music was her escape, an escape from lunacy. She gathered the covers, never had time to make her bed, and drowned herself within the melodies of the beautiful vocals of the masterful metal god Ronnie James Dio.

After a seemingly sleepless night and a long tedious day at high school followed by her library investigation, she was exhausted and easily drifted off to dreamland as Ronnie sang her to sleep.

The cassette had turned itself off once the side finished, left Rose's sleeping ears to catch the distant sound of the clocks in the basement chime the announcement of dusk. Being somewhat heavy with sleep she simply rolled onto her back.

The room's temperature started to drop at a rapid pace.

The quick change in temperature started to slowly affect Rose's ability to maintain sleep. Her hands lazily waved as if to shoo away the steadily growing cold then grabbed the covers and tugged them up under her chin. She rolled onto her left side and curled up into a warm ball.

The ivory music box began to sing.

She softly grumbled, heard the annoying and creepy melody of the damned music box. Her arm fumbled out from under the covers, the Walkman gripped in her hand. Without opening her eyes, she reversed the cassette then hit play. She again cuddled under the blankets, heard Ronnie's voice again instead of the eerie music box melody.

Her eyes frowned, for some reason Ronnie's typically perfect voice become distorted and slow. Beneath the covers her hand grabbed the Walkman but pulled away, felt its unnatural iciness. Ronnie's voice went away and she loudly whined with annoyance, "No, not Ronnie!"

She lazily sat up with her lips pouted. Her hand reached up and jerked the headphones from her head. "Okay, you shithead!" she snapped with a growl and eyes narrowed, "That's it, I've had enough!" she shouted, "This ends right here and now!"

She jerked back the covers, ignored the air's dramatic iciness. She got off the bed then went to the closet and pulled out the Ouija board. She again shouted, "You wanna be annoying, well, I ain't having it!"

She got back onto her bed, removed the Ouija board and its planchett then slammed the planchett down against the center of the board. "I'm tired of you sucking all the heat outta my room." she loudly complained and continued her complaints, "Tired of that damned music box." she brought her fingertips against the planchett, "Just damned sick and tired of your dead ass!" Her eyes scanned the room, it to have grown darker, eerily darker. "I know you're there," she said with a frustrated pucker tightened over her lips, "I know about you," she announced then accused, "Yeah, you were a psycho serial killer offing hookers and stuff." she loudly snapped, "Sicko!"

Her eyes aimed down at the board then she prepared to slide the planchett to 'goodbye', hoped the action would make the unwanted leave. Her eyes narrowed, the damned planchett wouldn't budge then it flew off the board as it had the night before.

"Asshole!" she shouted out into the shadows of her room then yelled, "You're not wanted here! I don't want some dead murderer haunting the shit outta me, got it!"

"I was no murderer!" Jerry Dandridge's voice grumbled loudly from somewhere in the room.

"Were too because that's what the papers said!" she shouted back.

Suddenly, the board was knocked off the bed to the floor by an unseen force.

She leaned back against the headboard, "You shit!" she cursed.

"I did what was necessary to survive, that's all!" he growled as he stood at the foot of the bed with his eyes narrowed and focused on her, "It's called survival not murder."

"Survival?!" she practically laughed with her eyes searching, hoped he wouldn't again manifest himself physically, "You killed folks!" she shouted, "You decapitated hookers!" then she loudly asked, "What, because they were hookers it's not called murder, huh?"

"They were easily dismissed and forgotten," he snapped in defense then pointed at her though she couldn't see him, "Unlike if I had taken the lives of little things like you."

"Oh, oh," she rose up on her knees and aimed her finger in all directions, "You're a damned nut job! They said you believed you were a damned vampire! You actually drained the blood from your victims to make it look like you were sucking them dry!"

She dropped seated on her legs and crossed her arms over Ozzy's snarling werewolf face then diagnosed him, "That's call the Reinfield syndrome and, buddy, that's just sick!" she gave what information she read, "But they think you upped and vanished because my neighbor Charley Brewster pointed his finger at you! They say you used hypnosis or some stupid shit like that to make everyone involved believe you were a vampire!" then she sarcastically asked, "Can you say PSYCHOPATH?!"

She smirked and gave a satisfied nod that she determined she was dealing with a dead crazy person whose soul needed to burn in hell for his crimes.

He started to fume in response to her accusations. She and what she had read labeled him as your typical psychotic serial murderer who got off on pretending to be a vampire. Dammit, he growled in though, he was the real thing!

"Oh, little girl," he again aimed his finger at her, "You have no idea what you're talking about." he grumbled loudly in denial, "I am no psychopath." He loudly growled then moved to the side of the bed and glared at her.

She quickly corrected him, "Was!" She sense she fueled his ghostly anger.

"You are getting on my last nerve." he basically warned her, kept his finger aimed down at her though, still, she was unable to him.

"You got on mine first, so there!" she snapped into the direction of his voice, "I bet," she gave her assumption why he was there, "You're still here because when you died you refused to go to the fiery pits of hell, turned your back on that black hole and ran from it like a damned cowardly shithead!"

"I am no coward!" he angrily grumbled, actually felt his spectral fangs, been a while, "I sure in the hell didn't die as one." then he gave his perspective. "As for hell? Well, this is my likely hell because you're in it!"

"Ha!" she laughed then commented, "Well, we both must be in hell then because there you are," she tossed her arms around and waved her hands in all directions, "Wherever you are!"

"I don't like you," he grumbled and reached down his hands, wanted to wring her neck, "If only I could just…"

"What,"she sarcastically asked, "Wanna cut my head off and drain my blood to continue your vampire posing serial murderer ways in death?" then she heard him again loudly grumble which sounded a bit more demonic than the previous grumble and commented, "Oh, good impersonation!"

"I…" he was so flustered he actually stammered on his grumbled words. His hands darted forward but unfortunately his hands passed through her neck, felt the slight warmth of her very essence tingle within his own. He frustratingly commented, "Apparently I do have limitations." He actually felt more frustrated with the likes of her than he had with damned Charley Brewster.

"Ha! Ha!" she mockingly laughed at him, "The dead guy can't touch me!"

"Oh, oh," he again stammered then said all he could, "I really don't like you."

"Feeling's mutual," she commented then kicked back her covers then stated, "I'm going to leave you now."

She crawled off the bed and unknowingly passed straight through him. She stumbled, felt as if her very insides were chilled just as her outside. She shook it off and marched for the doors.

He somewhat quivered, actually felt the heat of her entire bodily essence the moment she passed through him. He hadn't felt that toasty since, well, he had his fangs in Amy Peterson's neck. He slightly grimaced, too damned toasty when the sunlight struck him down.

His head turned and an intrigued grin crossed over his lips. He watched her steal away. There was nothing like the warmth of a woman even if she was probably the most annoying thing he ever came across.

Rose made her way into the kitchen not sure if what's his face followed. She decided the best way to go about her business was to ignore that he existed. She fetched a chilled soda from the fridge then grabbed up a bag of Doritos. She popped the tab then took a good swig as she started to rummage through the drawers for batteries. She complained in thought, stupid ghost killed the batteries in her Walkman.

The phone suddenly rang.

She startled then grumbled and marched through the house. She scooped up the receiver off the rotary phone. "Hello," she sang into the phone, "Oh, hey, Dad." she stood and crunched down on a nacho cheese chip, "Yeah, hmm, hmm, that's okay. So, you'll pick up shithead? Okay, well, guess I'll see you then. Yeah, love you too."

She hung up the phone and turned around, didn't see the unwanted spectral directly in front of her then unknowingly passed through him again. Again she trembled, felt that god-awful inner chill. Her eyes blinked then she shook it off followed by another chip crammed into her mouth.

Jerry beamed with slight intoxication. He couldn't suck the warmth with his spectral fangs but sure felt it the instant she passed through him. It was almost as addictive as he remembered mortal blood to be. Hell, he thought, if he had known the possibility to feel a mortal's heat in that manner he would have taken advantage of those few trespassers months back.

He slowly turned, looked to the kitchen entryway and listened to her rummage around in the drawers while crunching down on chips. He moved to the entryway, watched her gather up some batteries then tuck the bag of chips under her arm and grab the can of soda. His lips continued to smirk as he stood dead center of the entryway, anticipated another pass through. The moment she moved through him that new addiction grew. He felt of the warmth of life drift over his spectral form. He heard her gasp, knew she too felt the moment she passed through him.

She paused, turned to the side then took a look back. She swallowed, her stomach slightly churned with that third sensation as if she had been deeply chilled beyond her flesh all the way down into her muscles and bones. She no longer had the urge to munch and set the bag of chips near the telephone. Her hand rested against her stomach then she moved for the stairs, felt as if she suddenly came down with something. Maybe she was just tired, exhausted from all the strangeness that happened.

She retreated back to her bedroom, prepared to ignore any further peeps from the unwanted resident.

Inside her room, she picked up the Ouija and its planchett then tossed both back into the closet. She took a moment to replace the batteries in the Walkman and selected another cassette. A little Jeff Tate and Queensryche seemed appropriate to soothe for her sudden sickness.

She placed the headphones over her ears then laid down on her right side and pressed the play button. The genius music and Geoff Tate's nearly operatic vocals deafened her ears. Her eyes gently closed as she allowed her mind be consumed by the story being told through song within the album Rage for Order. She anticipated her favorite song I Will Remember which would arrive at the end of the second side.

Did he care that she was affected by passing through him? Right then, not really. It was the most pleasurable experience he had since, well, he was amongst the living as the un-living, the undead, the creature of the night, and every other descriptive adjective that pertained to the nature of his beast, a vampire.

He focused on her as she again drowned him out with the use of her music. He heard clearly the song that played. He somewhat praised in thought, the male voice was actually impressive as it sang through the orchestrated metal melody. Perhaps her taste in music wasn't as horrible as he first thought.

He reached his hand down and very gently his hand passed through the side of her face, felt the heat warm his spectral hand then watched her tremble. He drew his hand back. Would it be wise to continue with his strange new addiction. That is, to continue to use her to feed that addiction?

She was the only one who could hear him and if something tragic would come from him using her then he would again be left alone in his damned purgatorial hell. Decisions, decisions, he thought. Yet, how was he going to get others to come to him?

His eyes again focused on her. An idea brewed within his sinisterly genius mind which caused his lips to lightly form that sly pucker. He closed his eyes and, most of his limitations relieved from the incident with the Ouija board, he drew himself inside her mind as she heavily sighed with sleep.

_**(Author)**_

_**Of all the Fright Night fan fictions I've written, this is like number one on my list! Then it's the Vivian Addams stories followed by the recent Twist of Fate collection! I can never get enough of Rose and Jerry's back and forth banter!**_

_**FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA!**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Rose opened her eyes then frowned, from right to left her eyes shifted. She was in her room and in her bed but her bed was the only thing familiar besides the fireplace and vintage cloth wallpaper which no longer was covered by her heavy metal posters.

"What's going on?" she asked aloud.

Was she dreaming? She hoped she was because if that shithead ghost could physically distort reality then she'd be totally screwed.

Her eyes continued to shift from side to side. She waited for something to move, speak, or do something. Her eyes froze, the fireplace suddenly burned into life with a strange engulfing burst of flames.

Yep, she decided she was dreaming.

"You are," Jerry confirmed her thought.

She heard that unwanted but becoming familiar voice. "Ah, shit," she grumbled, her shoulders slumped then she dropped back against the bed and continued to complain, "Great, now you're in my dreams?! Oh, wait, take it back," she lifted her hand with her index erect, "A freaking nightmare you've become!" her hand dropped down, "Dude, just get a life…oh, that's right… you can't because you're dead!" She laughed at her sarcastic comment.

"Yes, yes," Jerry hated her sarcasm but kept calm, "Yes, I'm dead but," he stood near the nook where, instead of her record player, was his black stereo system, "I was dead when I was alive, per say."

"Oh, yeah, yep, sure," she sarcastically said, shook her head as she stared up at the ceiling then commented, "You were a nut job who believed he was a vampire."

"Ah, you're mistaken," he stepped forward with his arms crossed. He again dressed in a distinct shirt, the one he last wore, with its snaps undone exposing his chest beneath. Confidently he said, "I didn't believe. I was a vampire."

"Hmm, hmm," she hummed with disbelief.

"Why is it you can believe that I'm a ghost but you refuse to believe that I quite possibly was an actual vampire when, well, I was alive?" he asked, stood before the fireplace, now as he last remembered, vacant of her framed photos and the jewelry and music box. He asked, "How do you explain my sudden disappearance, hmm?"

"You were a chicken vampire wannabe who hightailed it when things got too close for comfort." she determined, that was the best explanation than him being a damned vampire but it didn't explain why he was there as a ghost.

"Hmm," he hummed, read her confused thoughts clearly, "Then explain how I hightailed it when my only vehicle was left behind. Explain to me the remains of Billy Cole that were found scattered at the bottom of the stairs, slime covered skeletal remains." he paused, remembered poor Billy Cole and explained, "He was with me for over a century and Charley and Peter Vincent managed to destroy him just as they destroyed me. I still get so damned confused how it all happened."

He shook off the confusion that surrounded how a teenage boy and old man managed to destroy him then asked her, "Did your little investigation tell the details given by witnesses at Club Radio, hmm? Did you read how they likely described me with vampire eyes and fangs and how I took out two well muscled bouncers, one quite larger than the other?" he smugly grinned then tossed his hand in gesture, "Simply tossed the large man, very impressive for someone you think was merely a mortal man pretending to be a vampire, wouldn't you agree, hmm?"

"Mass hysteria," she commented, desperately refused to believe his crazy ghostly babbling then lifted her arm and pointed in the direction of his voice, "And you are definitely full of yourself." she grinned and added, "Just had to add that in there."

"Well, you have an answer for everything," he shook his head, desperate to ignore her stabs at his ego, "But you can't explain to yourself why I'm here."

"Yeah, apparently you have an answer for everything too!" then she demanded, "And stop reading my damned thoughts!" she grumbled with her eyes closed, "You can leave my dream now."

"No," he simply refused.

"Gah!" she grumbled loudly then spouted questions, "What is the purpose of any of this, huh? What's the point of you invading the privacy of my freaking head?!"

He stated the truth,"I want your help."

She eagerly asked, "Oh, does that mean you want to get the hell outta my house?!" She smiled with hope.

He grimaced at her assumption but gave her the answer she wanted to hear, "Yes, I'm asking you to help me by listening to my story of my life that was taken by Charley Brewster." He lied, well, somewhat. Yes, he was tired of being alone on that condemned plain of existence but also needed to be strategic to get her help to bring him warm bodies.

"You're so full of shit." she stated, didn't believe him.

He pushed back the urge to yell at her and told himself, can't attract bees without honey. "No, I am not." he firmly stated, "Perhaps if you open yourself up to what I've been trying to confess to you then, just maybe, I'll be freed from this house, your home, then you won't have to listen to me anymore.

"Sounds too good to be true." she commented, rested her hands on her abdomen.

"Look at me," he suggested and kept his tone controlled, "Look at me and tell me what you see, if you can see that I'm being untruthful."

"I thought I made it clear that I have no damned desire or need to see your mug." she firmly reminded then stated, "It's bad enough that I have to listen to your damned voice." She wished he would just get out of her damned head already and actually let her get some sleep.

She decided to again resort to ignoring him in her dreams or nightmares as she planned when awake. She rolled onto her side, pulled the blankets up over head, and, that was it, time to ignore the ghost who when alive was a psychotic serial murderer who believed he was vampire.

Bit by bit he grew more than frustrated with her. Time for him to see exactly what he could and could not do in that dream plain.

He left the fireplace then somewhat stormed to the bed and physically snatched hold of the covers. With a swift jerk the covers were pulled off her and fell the floor. He watched her simply tuck her legs up, grab a pillow and covered her head to again block him out.

His lips pressed together with heightened frustrations. He marched around the bed then along the side. He glared down at her. "You're going to listen to me like it or not." he stated but she refused to acknowledge him with any spoken spite.

He reached down and snatched the pillow then jerked it back and tossed it to the floor, watched her defiantly roll onto her right side being damned stubborn and difficult.

"There's no blocking me out here or there, little girl." he stated then watched her clasp her hands over her ears, "Oh, go ahead and try to ignore me but it won't work and you know it." His lips smirked then he lifted his hand and sounded a quick snap of his fingers.

Rose hit the floor hard with a loud thud followed by a loud groan. Her eyes snapped open to discover she had fallen off her bed. She quickly sat up and pulled back the headphones. Her eyes scanned the shadows of the room. She reached and grabbed the bed then pulled up off the floor, felt a bit achy. Her eyes carefully looked around, hoped he wouldn't show himself. Really didn't want to again have the shit scared out of her.

"Boo!" his voice shouted in her ear.

She screeched, darted forward then tripped over the comforter at her feet. She dropped forward, hit the floor for a second time then heard him laugh. "You shithead psycho!" she shouted then pushed up off the floor, "Quit messing with me!" She stomped and kicked her feet out of the bundled comforter then marched around the bed and plopped down on her rear. She crossed her arms firmly over her chest.

"No!" he again shouted in her ear which caused her to slide off the edge and drop down on her ear.

She closed her eyes tightly and kept her arms tightly crossed.

"Look at me." he demanded demand.

Her lips tightly puckered as she squeezed her eyes shut.

"Look at me!" he demanded louder.

She stood her ground.

He stared down at her, determined to get her to look at him. There was no way no one could refuse him once they looked at him. He was always irresistible when looked upon. It didn't matter that he was only a spectral version of his former self and knew she wouldn't resist him once she saw him.

"Rose, open your eyes and look at me." he softened his voice, "If you look at me then I'll leave you be."

She shook her head, obviously didn't believe him.

He layered a bit of plea within his spoken melody, "Give me this one simple gesture and I'll leave you alone. I need you to look at me, acknowledge me for just one small moment, that's all I'm asking." He stared down at.

She continued to shake her head.

"I have spent a year not being acknowledged, seen or heard. I'm not asking much from you." he kept his voice soft, hid his true frustration, "I'm not the monster they portrayed me as, as Charley Brewster and the others made me out to be. I had no intentions harming any of them, any of these families that lived around me." It was the truth for the worst thing a vampire could do was feed amongst those around them.

"I always kept to myself," he continued to speak with his tone calm, "I was always a private individual that minded his own business. I went town to town restoring houses like this one." his arms tossed up and gestured to the house though she refused to see then he confessed, "Yes, I took lives but lives that none of these so called proper people even gave a second thought towards. Sure it became known they were dying but when it came down to it, no one truly cared because they were all unwanted. I would've moved on with my life as I have for centuries but that changed because of him!"

His head darted to the right and the shade tossed up, revealed the lit window of Charley Brewster's.

He turned and looked to through window, looked through at the adjacent window. "He spied on me." he spoke with a slight snarl about his lips, "He wouldn't leave it alone and spied on me and saw what wasn't meant to be seen. He went to the police and brought them to my home, invaded my privacy." he stepped nearer the window, "He went to his girlfriend and friend telling them about me, endangered their lives as well. Then he went to that old man and he too was put in danger." his eyes burned through the panes of glass focused wildly on that adjacent window, "I tried to give him an out but he was too damned stupid to take it which left me with no choice." his tone dropped, "A choice I never had."

He remembered the night he desperately tried to put the fear of God in that boy and indeed he gave that boy the option to forget everything that was seen. He would've gladly left that town if the boy would've ceased with the determination to reveal his secret to the surrounding world.

He repeated those spoken words, "Forget about me, Charley, and I'll forget about you." his eyes held their focus on that window, "He refused and, so, I did what I had to and," his face became unreadable and solemn, "And I failed."

He turned away from the window and looked to Rose who remained seated on the floor. "Now, the irony," he stepped forward, focused on her, "I'd give anything to be seen. I lived for a very long time and the last year, in death, has been the longest. Do you understand? Could you understand the torment of being invisible to those around you?"

She heard his words and his final questions. Since moving there, she experienced what it was like to be invisible. There seemed not a single person in her high school willing to accept the new girl, not even Charley Brewster whom she only spoke to on that first day. Back home, where she moved from, she had so many friends, an entire group of friends. Now the only person or thing that would even speak to her was in that room with her.

How damned pathetic was she?

Only a ghost was willing to speak to her, more like torment her. She hated that everything she knew was left behind and hated it even more now that she felt like the odd one out when she used to be the odd one in. She wished she could go back. She wished she could go back amongst her friends, go to more concerts and continue as it should've been. She wished her mom was there then it wouldn't have been such a difficult change to adjust with. Her mom was her closest friend.

"Yeah," she finally spoke up, "You don't want to be here anymore than I do. We're both stuck, I guess."

He felt it. She was breaking, he heard it in her thoughts.

"I have at least another year and you have," she lightly opened her eyes and looked to her knees, "Well, who knows how long you've got to be stuck here."

Yes, definitely sympathy for him. He heard it in her voice.

"Yeah, maybe you were some nut case," she commented, wasn't too keen on his whole identity as being a vampire, "Yeah, and you killed prostitutes." her nose wrinkled, "Wait, you killed people and maybe you deserve what you got."

Well, there went that little hope, he grumbled in thought. He desperately tried to hold back his returning frustrations. "I disagree." he commented and maintained his calm tone.

She quickly commented, "Yeah, you would, you're dead, you're a ghost and you're stuck." She slightly nodded in agreement with her comment, believed he would say anything to get his ghostly way.

"Why are you having such a difficult time believing that I am," he paused then finished his question, "I was a vampire?" What a turn of events. A year ago he didn't want anyone to know he was a vampire but now he tried to convince some young teenage girl.

"Because it's easier to believe you are or were crazy." she answered and passed her knees she caught glimpse of what looked to be very real shoes, "Vampires are easy to believe to exist only in books and movies, plain fiction, originated from the imagination of Bram Stoker made into a famous novel called Dracula and later to become the famous black and white film starring Bella Lugosi as the most famous vampire ever known. That's why."

"You believe I'm a ghost, correct?" he asked, stood a few feet in front of her.

"Well, yeah," she nodded as her eyes slightly shifted up and looked to two seemingly very real legs covered by charcoal gray slacks brushed by gray leather.

"Then why can't vampires exist, hmm?" he asked, noticed her eyes half open and somewhat stared forward and possibly she saw part of him.

"Maybe you were what you say you were." she commented but didn't want to believe in such things existing. Sure she had hoped spirits could exist. She wanted so desperately to speak to her mom one more time.

"Wouldn't that still make you as evil as a serial killer?" she asked him with her eyes slightly shifted upward and saw more of those slacks and gray leather.

"I don't see it that way." he stated and read there was definitely a change in her demeanor perhaps more so from her thought of her deceased mother, "I've never prided myself as being evil. I only lived to survive just like anyone else, though unfortunately I would always be seen as a monster because I had to take lives. I never chose to take lives. I had to take those lives to survive."

"Maybe," she wasn't able to really comment.

Yeah, vampires always had the wrap of being monsters, she thought, creatures that thrived to kill and destroy. Maybe that wasn't the gist of what they were or what he was, maybe there was more involved. She couldn't honestly dismiss their existence if right then she was in the presence of a ghost, something many believe unreal, nonexistent. Unless she had lost her mind and imaging the whole thing but that could never explain what she read in those newspaper archives. She never heard the name Jerry Dandridge until his voice said it.

Now she didn't just have a ghost but the ghost of a vampire trapped in her house. "Okay, so you're a dead vampire, what now?" she asked, stared blankly forward.

Her thoughts clearly indicated she started to believe which was his advantage. "Give me the opportunity to truly be heard," he urged, not entirely untrue because since he found himself trapped there he desired to be heard, "And the opportunity to be seen. Help me, Rose. I promise that I have no intention to harm you in any way." No, he didn't wish to harm her for he needed her to help him again feed that need for consuming lives but in a whole other way.

He softly spoke, "Give me the pleasure of being heard and seen. If I'm to be stuck here for however long it might be, give me those two simple gestures of my voice being heard and your eyes seeing me."

"You sound so convincing," she commented with a slight smile, "That's what you bloodsuckers do, convince, charm, and seduce. You might just be bullshitting me."

Well, he mentally commented to himself, she wasn't entirely an idiot. "I'm no longer a vampire, I'm a trapped spirit." he said, not entirely certain if his wiles in life were with him there in death but desperately he wanted to find out, "Has anything I've said or done shown you my ability to convince, charm, or seduce?"

"No, you only seem to have the ability to annoy the shit out of me." she answered with a little laugh, "Yeah, that's pretty much what I've gotten from ya."

"Well, then it's settled," he hoped then asked, "Are you going to give me what I want with your own free will?"

"So, you just want me to listen to you blab and want me to look at what I predict is a pretty damned smug mug?" she asked, tried to make a final decision.

"You could put it that way," he slightly shook his head at her horrible use of adjectives, "And yes, I want you to hear and see me. Perhaps if you truly listened to me and finally look at me you might come to the conclusion that I'm not truly the monster written about."

She shook her head. "Well, maybe you won't bother me as much. I do have a little brother and learned that if I cave in then he's not as annoying." she stated and shrugged, decided to give the ghost of Jerry Dandridge, the proclaimed vampire, what he requested, "Okay, Jerry Dandridge, let's get this shit over and done with then maybe you'll finally let me sleep and keep my sanity intact."

Oh, victory at last, he beamed with satisfaction, finally won the battle with her unlike the lost battle with Charley Brewster. "Thank you, Rose," he truly thanked her, appreciated her willingness to allow him the opportunity to discover if he still maintained his more cunning abilities. Actually, his ability to convince was still intact which was obvious by her caved to his requests.

"Yeah, your, I guess, welcome." she again shrugged, uncrossed her arms then rested her hands against her knees then she commented, "Well, this is awkward as hell." she announced, "I guess I'm gonna look at you now."

She took a moment to prepare herself, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was really about to look at a ghost that quite possibly once was one of the undead. Her head tilted back as she again took another deep breath. "Okay," she released her breath, "Here goes nothing and you better not scare the shit out of me when I look at you because I'll be pissed." then she mumbled under her breath, "Be all gross and stuff."

"Oh, take my word for it," he smirked, "You won't be scared, that I am positive."

"You seriously are so full of yourself." she commented then shook her head, "Now shut up and let me do this."

She slightly lifted her hands and took another deep breath then slowly opened her eyes as she slowly exhaled. Her eyes were aimed up but what she saw was blurred. "Ha," she laughed, "Luckily for me I don't have my glasses on."

He frowned, "What?"

She again laughed, "Yeah I'm near sighted. Can't see anything more than a foot in front of me without my glasses." she continued to laugh then stood up off the floor, "Well, too bad." she tossed her hands up and shrugged, "Maybe another time, huh."

She looked forward and quickly startled, dropped onto the foot of the bed.

He stood less than a foot in front of her.

"Jesus!" she grumbled, really fed up with him scaring the crap out of her.

"No, not even close." he commented with his arms crossed.

"No shit," she took a breath, rested her hand on her heaving chest then commented, "You're sure determined that I see your damned face, aren't ya?" She closed her eyes, sure thought she got out of that one but, nope, something was damned stubborn.

"Let me get my glasses." she said, lifted her hand and quickly turned then crawled onto the bed. She reached her bedside table then grabbed her glasses and reluctantly put them over her eyes.

Why did she agree to any of it? Why was any of it even happening to her?

She took another deep breath then slowly turned as she sat atop her legs on the bed. "Let's try this again, shall we." she stated then opened her eyes and in her mind started to play one of her all time favorite Scorpions tunes, Hey You. Yeah, she pretty much understood why he was so damned smug, arrogant, conceded, and definitely full of himself.

All her life, well, teenage life, she adored all those head banging heavy metal gods with their manes of flowing rock star hair, eyeliner enhanced eyes, tight leather pants, and skin exposing torn shirts. She always tried to convince herself she was attracted to their vocals not their looks and right then, perhaps it was true.

The ghost, the phantom, the spectral being in her room shared none of the traits of those plastered on her walls. He looked more realistic, there was no glamour or raunchiness. Hell, she assumed that even vampires would uphold the almost rock god appearance but her assumption was wrong. He didn't even share any likeness to the classics that were Bella Lugosi or Christopher Lee.

Did she find him attractive?

Well, Hey You was on repeat within her thoughts and that pretty much said she was attracted. Sure, he was obviously mature in aged appearance, like her dad's age but far from looked like any father figure she ever encountered, including her dad. Yet, maybe she saw him all wrong because there were shadows throughout the room since it was dark but did she dare turn on the overhead light? Could she handle what he truly looked like with the light on? Was it best just to leave him defined by shadows instead of light?

She determined she didn't need to be attracted to an undead dead guy no matter how attractive he was. "Okay," she finally spoke, tried to remove the song from her head and any attraction whatsoever, "Well, goodnight." She jerked the glasses off her face, set them on the table and quickly snatched her blankets off the floor.

He shook his head with surprise and somewhat mumbled, "What?" Obviously not the reaction he expected. She looked at him but did she truly look at him? Oh, he knew what she thought but her actions just totally contradicted those promising thoughts.

"Yeah," she messily covered herself and laid down, "Goodnight. I looked at ya so, yeah, now I'm gonna go night-night."

"Wait a minute," he refused to believe that was it because she didn't say one damned thing remotely commenting on his appearance, only in her damned thoughts. Damn it, he wanted it to be vocalized.

"Shh," she closed her eyes tightly and hugged the covers about her neck, "I don't feel good so, yeah, be quiet and let me sleep like you said you would let me do after I looked at ya."

"Fine, you can sleep." he stated, "And you can dream as well."

"Ah, shit," she whined, brought the covers over her head. She couldn't get the song out of her head, it repeated with those shadowy details she got of his appearance.

"That's right," he smirked, "Sweet dreams, Rose."

"Shithead," she again whined with a little grumble.

_That's it, Rose, fall asleep,_ he urged within his mind, _fall asleep and dream_.

He determined the best way to get her to actually see him, have no choice but to see him, was in her dreams. It was the most excitement he had with such a determined pursuit not since, well, the evening he pursued Charley and Amy through the streets then into Club Radio. Yes, Club Radio, a fond memory that included the chaos he caused. He knew with access to Rose's dreams there was nothing he couldn't do; any world could be created by him.

His lips formed into the smirk of sly genius. She could sleep soundly and at the same time be helpless against his charms. He closed his eyes waiting for the moment she hit that plain of deep sleep in which he would enjoy invading.

_**(Author)**_

_**HA! Jerry became the true definition of a 'dream guy'! BAHA!**_

_**FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA!**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

On a pair of killer leather calf boots Rose bounced around frantically as she head banged to the pounding metal melody that started to plague her conscience before falling asleep. The unique vocals of German singer Claus Meine blended with the vocals of Rudolph Schenker and incredible guitar skills of Mattheus. She didn't care if she was dreaming as long as she had a blast, danced around as crazily as she wanted because that's what you did in your dreams.

She ignored those around her who were undoubtedly no true heavy metal fans and unable to keep up to that heavenly heavy rock beat. That scenario brought her back to the time when she and her friends would create their own mosh pits on the east coast shoreline with the music from their boom box blasted against the cliffs.

Those around her looked like the freaks with their glitzy clothes of silk and sequins and their sleek hairdos; disco freaks was what she called them. Her arms flailed in wide circles, every toss high in the air and showed off her midriff beneath the purposely cropped band tee. Her legs stomped and kicked to the beat of the music they covered to the knees by a stretch cotton fitted pencil skirt and about her hips rattled layers of a chain belts. Her head banged to the music, tossed her strawberry blonde metal inspired hairstyle streaked with a little punk inspired electric blue. No glasses needed when you were in your dreams, you could see everything clearly.

She continued her dance, bounced around within her own private piece of the dance floor. Colored lights flashed to the beat of the music while her eyes were closed in concentration of her enjoyment of dancing and the music with a big smile over her lips.

"Judas Priest!" she shouted and swiftly the music changed upon her prompt, "Yes!" She tossed her arms in the air with her fists pumped in honor of the pulsing beat of Judas Priest's mechanical melody Turbo Lover and seduced by Rob Halford's grinding vocals. She lipped the words and somewhat acted out the chorus.

"_RAGING HORSE POWER DRIVING INTO FURY_!" she sang aloud, "_CHANGING GEARS I PULL YOU TIGHTER TO ME_!" she sang louder, "_I'M YOUR TURBO LOVER… TELL ME THERE'S NO OTHER_!" she sang even louder with the song, "_I'M YOUR TURBO LOVER… BETTER RUN FOR COVER_!"

She felt as if she were at her own private party where any song she wanted would come to life the moment she thought it. Her eyes looked around and it seemed that the crowd started to thin as individuals vanished one by one. Her eyes frowned. Yeah, she didn't mind their disappearance but knew she hadn't prompted it.

Her frantic dancing gradually calmed as the music started to fade into something not her taste (_Good Man In a Bad Time-Ian Hunter_). Then it dawned on her.

"Ah, come on," she whined and shrugged, "Do you have to ruin everything for me, even my damned dreams?" She childishly stomped her foot with her lips twisted in a whiny grimace.

She spun around waiting for the invader to finally show, "Yeah, I know you're around here somewhere, shithead!" she shouted over the lousy music, "You could at least keep my music going if you're gonna be in my head!" she again stomped her foot then shouted, "This music sucks! Lacks passion, drive, and a damned pulse just like a certain somebody! Oh, wait!" she brightened, "You never had a pulse even when you were 'alive' and weren't a pain in my ass!"

"Really?!" his voice spoke over the music.

She jumped forward, heard him speak in her ear. Her hands balled into fists and face puckered with frustration. She defiantly shouted, "KROKUS!" then she crossed her arms over her chest.

Quickly Krokus filled the air, took out the previous song.

She quickly spun around and pointed at him, "Ha!" she shouted then proceeded to lip the words to Midnight Maniac, desperately ignored the attractiveness of the only other individual in her dream.

Not impressed by her music, but more frustrated why she wouldn't acknowledge how damned good looking he was. He was tired of reading how attractive he was to her in her damned thoughts. Oh, and on top of that, her music was about to give him a damned ghostly migraine.

"Awe," she pouted her lips then stated, "Okay, I'll work something in just for you!"

She cleared her mind and, bam, Alone Again by Dokken sounded loudly. She sorta kicked him while he was down and dead and a ghost. She continued to mockingly pout her lips at him and swayed side to side to the rock ballad.

"Awesome right?!" she shouted over the beautiful electric guitar solo, "I think it's appropriate, wouldn't ya agree?!"

She lipped the words while rocking out in a slower pace. She lifted her hand, exposed a lighter then with the flick of her thumb the flame ignited. She continued her mocking of him by singing the chorus, "_TRIED SO HARD TO MAKE YOU SEE_!" she swayed her hand back and forth in the air and made the soft flame dance, "_BUT I COULDN'T FIND THE WORDS_!" Her smile was unfailing, knew she started to get on his last dead guy nerves.

She started to giggle then belted out a huge laugh at his expense.

His eyes glared at her as he stood with his arms tightly crossed over his chest. Definitely, he wasn't impressed but more annoyed than anything else. Perhaps his idea of a club setting wasn't as brilliant as first thought.

Hmm, he thought, maybe something more intimate.

His hand lifted and fingers snapped, intimate the setting became and took away the wide open space of that remembered club. He replaced the club with the bedroom he remembered, without her tasteless array of rock star posters. No damned bed or covers or pillow to hide from him. He now had control just the way he liked it. The setting was brighter, illuminated him nicely so there was no denying herself a proper look at his stunning appearance.

He smugly smirked with satisfaction, enjoyed the annoyed expression that promptly engulfed her pretty face. "Much better," he commented.

She crossed her arms over her chest then spun around and turned her back to him. "You're about as bad as Freddy Kruger." she commented but added, "At least he would've killed me already and put me out of my misery."

"Who's Freddy Kruger?" he asked, the name didn't sound familiar.

"Oh, just another dead guy who torments teenagers when they're asleep." she explained then smartly, "Sound familiar?"

His eyes narrowed, glared at the back of her head. He calmed down a bit and spoke, "I just thought," He was rudely interrupted.

With a smirk, she quickly commented, "Dangerous."

He pressed his lips together, fought the desire to be just as spiteful. He cleared his throat then stated, "I just thought while you slept it would be a more appropriate way to socialize." he explained, "You get your sleep and I get that much needed socialization though you're beginning to make me regret considering you for something you remotely lack skills in performing." Yes, he had to be somewhat spiteful.

Her eyes narrowed in response to his stated insult then gave her own, "You're so needy." then she snidely asked, "We're you that needy when you walked the earth as a cold blooded killer?"

"I am not needy." he denied her accusation and elaborated, "And I never was and never will be. And I wasn't some mindless killer as you assume." he attempted to explain what he was when 'alive', "There's more to being a vampire than just killing. If you would open your closed mind then perhaps you'll get a better understanding of my true nature." his lips softened, the tension faded then commented, "I believe you're more intelligent than the way you obviously come across." he asked, "Do you seriously wish to give me or anyone the impression that you're just some closed minded run of the mill teenager, hmm?"

She decided to let up a little. Never would she considered herself your typical teenager. She wasn't stupid. At her previous school she was in more advanced classes than her head banging buddies. Sure she loved heavy metal music but much of the bands she truly loved were brilliant in their unique play on the development of their metal melodies.

"Oh, well," she relented but sarcastically, "If I'm stuck with you for the time being, I guess I could make the best of it." she stated with her arms loosened over her chest, "Not every day someone gets the opportunity to speak to a ghost, a dead vampire, and something that's been around the block about a million damned times over and over."

Again with her vibrant adjectives, he slightly rolled his eyes, then asked, "So, are you agreeing to be more civilized and bit less vindictive?" He hoped they were finally getting passed her rudeness and stubbornness.

"Yeah," she slightly nodded her head, "I'll be more civilized and whatever."

She reluctantly turned around but refused to look directly at him because she had no desire to find him attractive. She determined a crush on a dead guy who when he was alive or undead went around sucking the lives out of folks, well, was wrong.

"Now what?" she asked, had no idea what to do now that she was stuck in dreamland with him.

"For starters," he quickly noticed her reluctance to truly look at him, "You could look at me as if I'm standing right in front of you, which I am."

"What is your obsession with having me look at you?" she quickly asked, continued to not look directly at him, "I see you."

"No you don't." he stated with his tone softened, "You don't really see me. Actually you act as if you don't truly wish to really see me. You're avoiding to look at me right now."

Yeah, she was, admitted to herself then nodded.

"Then really look at me." he urged her then coyly asked, "Or are you afraid that if you do, you would have to admit to yourself that I truly exist?"

She shook her head and denied, "No, that's not it."

"Then what?" he asked, studied her pretty face.

Her eyes steadily shifted side to side and refused to stop and look him in the face, "What do you want me to say?" she asked instead of answering his question, "I don't know what you expect if I really look at you. I don't see the point."

"The point is that you acknowledge me." he answered and that was the gist of his point and then some. He watched closely as she ceased the shift of her eyes then focused more so on his chest. Not quite where he wanted her eyes. "What are you afraid of?" he asked, hoped to prod her pride which would work to his advantage.

"Nothing," she denied though there was something she was afraid of, him.

"I don't believe you." he commented, read the struggle about her expression and within her thoughts. Fear wasn't what he wanted to provoke from her.

She defensively snipped, "That's your problem."

"Yes," he agreed then added, "But it's yours too."

She really hated her pride offended then snappily said, "Fine," she rolled her eyes then lifted her them.

Oh, she hated that he was so damned attractive as his damned ego blatantly proclaimed. It seemed wrong to find him attractive, not just because he was the physical appearance of a man about forty, but because of what he was and had been.

"Happy?" she somewhat grumbled, "I'm looking at you." She watched his full lips softly smile. She hated his damned gorgeous smile too.

"Thank you," he sincerely said. Finally someone looked at him, not through him. And she did find him attractive, as her thoughts stated, but verbally wasn't said, yet.

"Sure," she drolly said then asked, "Now what?"

"So, now that you are truly looking at me," he focused his eyes on hers which he thought were quite lovely with a light shade of blue, "Do I scare you?"

She gave a quick laugh then shook her head and commented, "Of course not."

"How do I appear to you?" he asked, wanted a bit of his ego stroked, been a long year without anyone to swoon over him.

She vaguely commented, "Ah, I don't know." She was reluctant to feed his ego because she was not stupid.

"Do you find me attractive?" he blatantly asked with a slight curious lean forward.

She snipped in reply, "Gah, I don't know." She held firm to her reluctance.

His lips slightly puckered with suspicion then he confidently commented, "Oh, you do know but you just refuse to say."

"What do you want me to say?" she asked then frustratedly suggested, "Tell me what to say then I'll say it." she quickly added, "Maybe."

"I want you to say the truth." he urged as his brows curiously lifted.

"Fine," she snapped with frustration then gave him something, "Jeeze, fine, you're, well, not bad looking."

She watched him frown. She guessed what she said wasn't what he expected to hear then reluctantly elaborated, "You look, well, like twenty or so years older than me."

She watched his frown tense across his brows, "Oh my god, alright!" she again snapped, "You're good looking, just like you bragged about." she snapped a question, "Do I really need to inform you of something you obviously know?" then stated, "A little pointless." She watched the lines soften between his brows.

"So, you find me attractive." he accused. Yes, his ego again lavished by a very pretty young lady.

She quickly commented with question, "Holy shit, didn't you just hear me?" she shook her head in disbelief, "Yes, okay!" she confessed more, "You're probably better than good looking but ya know that! Now, would you leave me the hell alone with all this looking at ya bullshit, huh? Cut me a break!" she uncrossed her arms and tossed her hands in the air, "I don't know what else I can say to make ya happy, Jerry!"

"Oh, you've made me happy," he stated, "Very happy."

"Woo!" she sarcastically cheered.

He then slyly asked, "Would you like to know what would make me even happier?"

_**(Author)**_

_**Bet ya were waiting for them to lay the smack down or the mack down on one another huh? Me too!**_

_**FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA!**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

"No," Rose stated then guessed, "But you're gonna tell me if I like it or not." She really didn't want to know.

"Of course," he smirked, focused his eyes with hers then slyly started a question, "Do you find me attractive enough to," he paused, felt that familiar seductive nature return, "Well, to perhaps give me a kiss?" He found her shocked expression very amusing, unlike Peter Vincent's old fashioned vampire romanticizing films.

With some surprise, she commented, "Oh, you've got some balls for a dead guy." She leaned back a bit and crossed her arms over her chest again.

"Have you ever been kissed?" he blatantly asked, felt for the first time in a year that rush he once took for granted when he once effortlessly pursued what he wanted.

"Ah, plenty," she snipped back at him then stated, "Not by a dead guy but been kissed plenty and then some by guys with a pulse." Her eyes slightly widened. She didn't mean to say that much but he was so damned annoying and attractive at the same time.

She quickly commented, "Oh, besides, you're a ghost, you can't kiss your own butt let alone something living." She really wanted out of that dream.

"Ah but," he lifted his hand with an erect index, "We are in your dream." he pointed at himself, "In here, I can do whatever I want," then he pointed at her, "As can you." It was confirmed, she definitely was attracted to him.

Now for more than just attraction.

She refused to carry on with his very awkward subject. She decided, time to change the subject since earlier he was so keen on blabbing. "So," she spoke up, shifted and turned to the side, tried to avoid the uncomfortable feeling his expression gave her, "What's up with the paintings?"

She stepped closer to the wall. She recognized most of them from those that were tossed out of the basement into the pile of his belongings. She asked, "Were ya some sorta art collector?" then curiously asked, "And what's up with the one that looks like Charley Brewster's girlfriend, huh?"

He again pressed his lips together with annoyance. Apparently his so called charms were unable to work as they had in life.

With a slight huff he turned and looked above the fireplace at the memory of that painting. "She was someone I knew," he started to speak and was again rudely interrupted.

"Let me guess," she quickly interjected, "Someone you knew long time ago or something like that." she smirked at him then commented, "With you, I'm guessing a long time ago." she continued to smirk, "But sorta weird how Brewster's girlfriend just happens to look just like the chick you knew long, long, long, and probably a really long time ago."

She studied at him as he was focused on the portrait. Her eyes lightly frowned in question towards his expression. There was something kinda sad, she determined, about how he looked at the painting.

She again spoke, commented, "Just to get to Brewster wasn't your only motive." she asked, "Hey, you wanted to get your hands on her, right?" She made the assumption just by the expression on his face.

Damn she was intuitive, he grumbled in thought. "Yes," he confessed, "But, as you can see, it didn't quite work out in my favor."

Yes, he had two motives that concerned Amy Peterson. The first motive was to hit Charley where it hurt the most by stealing the young lady love. The second motive was selfish reasons of possibly having a physical remembrance of the young woman in the portrait instead of just a portrait.

"What did you do to her?" she curiously asked, figured since he wanted to share his story, well, she gave him the chance. She pointed at the portrait and stated, "Not her, that's too much information for me to handle." she asked, "But what did you do to Amy Peterson?" she grinned,  
"Hey, you used your so called vampire mesmerizing skills, didn't ya? You know the skill you no longer possess."

She watched his eyes leave the portrait and slowly narrow as they turned to look at her. She simply smiled then asked, "Hey, was it the whole, 'I have complete power over you and you cannot resist me' kinda thing?" then she commented, "Bet she didn't have a free brain cell when it came to you. You got all swoony and stuff, I'm guessing." she confidently nodded, "Yeah, you had her putty in your greedy vampire hands." She rolled her eyes with a slight shake of her head.

"You're really annoying," he commented, she really had no damned filter.

"What of it?" she sarcastically asked then urged, "So, spill it." her eyes curiously brightened, "Hey, did you seduce her? Did ya throw all your vampire skills in one big ego filled basket?" she ignored his glare then questioned, "But, really, what's the achievement in that, hmm?" she commented, "If you had to go all hypnosis on her then she never really like really was into ya and I think ya knew it." she again grinned, "She had her little bitty heart set on adorable little Charley Brewster, the average Joe."

"How can adorable compare to, well, me?" he defensively asked, "He's just a little boy and, as you said, he's average at the most." He turned his back to the portrait.

"Hey, I call it as I see it." she stated with a shrug then decided to rub some information into his good looking mug, "I saw them together at school. All lip locked and making out during lunch. Who knows what they do together in his car or bedroom. I'm sure by now they've gone all the way." her curiosity peaked and had to ask, "Hey, wait, you didn't nail her did ya? I mean not in the whole vampire sucking way. You know."

He again looked at her with a blink of his eyes. She so easily plucked his every nerve with everything that came out of her mouth and brain. Then he asked her in return, "What does it matter what I did, hmm?" he faced her with his arms still tightly crossed then asked, "What does it matter to you what I did or did not do to Charley Brewster's sweetheart, hmm?" he took a step forward then in return, suspiciously asked, "Why are you all of a sudden curious about what may or may not have been done to that sweet and innocent little Amy, huh?"

She again felt awkward, decided perhaps she asked the wrong questions. To reverse the awkwardness, she quickly spat back, "Just making conversation like you wanted."

"Let me continue the conversation." he agreed then took a step closer. She wanted to know, well, he was going to oblige her and make her even more awkward and regretful of her sarcastic prying questions.

"I cornered Charley and Amy at Club Radio." he began and enjoyed her awkward expression, "Charley was too damned busy trying to convince Peter Vincent to help them and left poor Amy defenseless and she was, that is, defenseless against me." he smugly grinned, lavished the expression on her face, "It took nothing to break her out of her shy and meek shell. I just gave that shell a little tap" he mocked and tapped his finger tip against the air, "And that shell cracked and she emerged the rest of the way without real hesitation." He prided himself on his ability that brought the sex out of any woman young or old. Hell, he praised himself, Charley's mom was raring to give it up.

He took another step forward, focused on her changing expression and continued his tale of seduction, "She just followed her own desire which was directed at me. You should have seen how well she performed on the dance floor that night, the way her body moved against mine." he so enjoyed the expressed regret for the questions and comments she blatantly made, "There is always a little hesitation in the beginning. She put up a bit of a struggle but by the time I finished with her, she was mine to do as I pleased. And that was exactly what I did, as I pleased, and she was more than willing."

She snipped back, "You're a pervert," she thought his boasting of confidence disgusting, "You basically just made yourself sound like a pervert." she asked, "You do realize that?"

He ignored her smart ass remark, knew it was given by her attempt avoid the awkwardness he easily gave her. He spitefully commented, "Honestly, I believe you have a hard time understanding the nature of sex." he smugly grinned, "Oh, you say you've kissed and then some but you're likely just as inexperienced as Amy was, well, that is until I had my way with her." he cockily grinned then commented, "Don't be ashamed for being embarrassed. I've been around the block a million times over and over, remember?"

"I ain't ashamed of shit." she tried to snap back but the attempt was weak because he made her conscious of her own inexperience. Yeah, she had made out plenty times and the whole then some pretty much ended at third base.

He snidely commented, "Oh, perhaps you're just envious." he enjoyed her defensiveness which only told him he started to get to her as she so damned blatantly got to him. He continued to prod her nerves, "Just as envious as Charley was of me. He lacks so much, likely he leaves Amy wanting more. More because of me, of course. She never knew what it was like to lust or desire unlike she had the very first time she saw me."

He stepped up to her, reached and grabbed her hand.

She somewhat startled as he pried her hand free.

He pulled her hand forward then leaned as he lifted the back of her hand to his lips. He studied her eyes as they were wide in confusion how to react to what he was about to do. He eagerly shared, "I looked into her eyes and saw the nagging desire to know what it was like to be seduced in every meaning of the word." He pressed his lips against the back of her hand as his eyes held hers. He lifted his lips from her hand and stated with confidence, "That's one of my many skills. I read and discover the real desires in women."

She quickly jerked her hand from his. Oddly she was unable find the proper insult but could only comment, "You're no Don Juan." then quickly remarked, "You're more like the Marquis De Sade."

She tucked her kissed hand behind her and rubbed the back of it against her butt as if to wipe away his vampire cooties then commented with a grimace, "You're a sadist."

"The Marquis De Sade also read and discovered the desires of others let alone his own." he stated with apparent historical intelligence, "He was just as persecuted as I am right now by you." he asked in his defense, "What harm is there in knowing just how to unleash desires, hmm?" he explained, "See, I'm not just about death. Death isn't the only thing that defines me. I am capable of passion, romantic seduction, and giving another their real desires. Sure, it might take a little provocation but eventually all desires come out at the individuals will." he again crossed his arms and confidently stated, "I simply help it along."

"Don't make it sound like you did her any favors because you had motives." she reminded him with a sharp nod then verbally jabbed, "And you're just pissed because your shit ain't working on me since its likely outta commission because you were put out of commission." she smirked then choked a little laugh with the strangest thought, "You're like a guy who's," she couldn't say it because it was such an embarrassing thought for any guy, even a dead one.

"Go ahead, continue with your insulting observations." he urged with his brow furrowed, "You get too much pleasure out of mocking me and my circumstances."

"See, you are right," she decided to offer him a compliment, if it were one, "You do know my desires. Bravo."

His lips formed a sly smirk then confidently stated, "Oh, I will admit that I don't know your desires. Not yet." then he stated, "And I caught a glimpse of those desires moments ago which were very similar to those I saw clearly in Amy Peterson's eyes when she looked at me."

She snapped, "Oh, back to that, huh?" She desperately tried to shake him off his suggestive path.

"Tell me, Rose," his voice became that familiar smoothness and he asked, "How many boys have left you wanting more as Charley undoubtedly does to poor Amy, hmm? Did a single one manage to remotely give you satisfaction? Sometimes it takes someone with more experience to truly give satisfaction." his lips held their slanted sly smirk, amused by her growth of awkwardness, "I'm confident that Amy will live the rest of her mortal life wanting more and more because she had a very unique taste that she'll never again be given. And I'm just as confident that you'll end up the same way."

She grimaced in response to how annoyingly accurate his observations were. She wouldn't admit to the likes of him that most of those first and second and third bases seemed to miss the mark but that was the life of being a teenager, she guessed, especially of the female sex. "For one," she finally spoke, took a step forward glaring at him, "You're definitely ill equipped to offer anything remotely satisfying to any woman let alone me." she eagerly reminded him, "You're dead, buck o, do ya forget that little detail, huh?"

"True," he agreed with a smugness, her thoughts said it all, "But I guarantee I still surpass any boy you've known, even if I am dead."

"Yeah but they all have something you don't." she quickly retorted, took another determined step forward then corrected, "Well, they have a lot that you don't." her eyes narrowed, "For one, a functional body." she spitefully grinned, "Secondly, a pulse which you proclaim you didn't have before you died. And, lastly, they aren't a damned ghost."

He retorted in question, "Yes, but who's currently been entertaining your fancy?" his brows curiously lifted, "I don't see a single living and breathing young man knocking on your door. Who's the current man of your dreams?"

She quickly snapped back, "Nightmare more like it, fat head!"

He verbally tossed back, "Nightmare, dream, no difference. I'm still here." he held his smug smirk and with confidence, knew he really started to get to her, "And no one else is."

"Yeah, unfortunately for me!" she grumbled.

Damn, she screamed in though, he was really begun to bug her. She hated those damned truths he so blatantly spat at her which were worse than those she spat at him.

"You sure think highly of yourself don't you?" she spitefully asked, "You actually think I'm attracted to you?"

"I call it as I see it." he used her words against her then smugly elaborated, "And I definitely see it in those big blue eyes of yours." her eyes and thoughts were dead giveaways to what she so poorly tried to hide from him, "Yes, I'm unfortunately dead but in your dream I am as alive as you want me to be."

She frustratingly shook her head then loudly grumbled, "Would you just give up, ain't gonna happen!" she was truly getting flustered, "I'm not Amy Peterson or any other chick you used your vampire hypnosis on to get your way! So, just stop already while you're not ahead!"

He eagerly corrected, "Oh, I'm ahead," his eyes matched the smugness of his smirk, "You are so on the verge I can feel it."

"On the verge of what?" she grumbled with further frustrations then asked, "On the verge of calling a damned priest and have this house blessed and your butt evicted into hell?!"

He dared and took a very close step forward, "Let me kiss you," he urged, "Then we'll discover how close you truly are."

"You can't kiss me," she practically guessed, "Nonfunctional remember."

"Let's see how nonfunctional I am." he continued to provoke then urged further, "Test me, test yourself, I encourage you."

"You suck at seduction!" she verbally threw back in desperation to veer his direction, "And I predict all you've ever know how to do is suck!"

"You're getting angry," he commented with his smirk broadened, "Very becoming, might I say."

"Damn straight I'm getting angry!" she practically shouted then raised her voice more, "You stand here and claim all mightily that you were this expert seducer, the provoker of desires and all you're provoking out of me is the desire to slap the damned smug smile off your face!"

"That's it, Rose, get angry." he cunningly encouraged then stated his observation, "You do have a fire inside you just waiting to burn free."

"Oh and I highly doubt you're the dead guy to bring it outta me!" she loudly snapped with defiance.

"Hmm, I think I am." he so confidently proclaimed and stated, "And I'm doing it right now."

"Are not!" she denied.

"You want me to seduce you?" he asked with his smirk formed into a gratified grin then asked further, "Do you want me to seduce you like I seduced Amy? Do you want me to seduce you like all those boys were ill equipped to do, hmm?" then snidely stated, "I gladly offer you the services of my expertise."

"Oh!" she stammered, uncrossed her arms and tossed her hands in the air, "You're freaking useless!"

"Oh, I have to disagree." he stated. He knew he was slithering his way into her head, evident by how her cheeks were flushed and burning. "I am very useful." he continued to proclaimed then urged more, "Use me, Rose, and I guarantee not to disappoint." He couldn't remember the last time he worked that hard.

Her eyes narrowed and lips pressed firmly together then she quickly turned her back to him. She fumed, wouldn't out right admit to his smug ass that there was an almost sickening temptation which he knew he blatantly waved in her face.

Her arms again tightly crossed and hands firmly gripped her upper arms. She never was that damned flustered or agitated in all her nearly eighteen years when it came to anything of the opposite sex. Yep, she mentally admitted, she found him attractive. Actually, she found him more attractive than the so called boys she ever got with. He was mature, probably way too damned mature by centuries, but a mature attractive. There was also that element of danger, an allure she found in those bad boys of heavy metal but knew he was more than just bad, probably evil as hell.

He felt a rush with such a tedious pursuit which was unlike the physical pursuits of his lengthy past. It was that mental pursuit that pumped a type of adrenaline throughout his spirit. That effort was like the days of old when he was on hunt for the perfect prey to satisfy his predator instincts. A boast of anticipation he felt that only true hard labor could produce. For centuries there was no real effort to get what he wanted but as hard as he worked with her, it felt refreshing and exhilarating. Using only his voice and words seemed so much more rewarding than simply burning his eyes into another's and mesmerizing them to do his bidding. Yes, she was difficult but the difficulty made him want that succession even more.

Opportunity knocked and he answered, stepped directly behind her. Time had come to discover if he could truly touch her within her dream. His hand anxiously lifted and moved toward the flow of her strawberry blonde hair.

She froze, felt his fingers lift a segment of her hair, let it gently slide across his fingers then allowed it to flow back down against her back. He could touch her, she reluctantly acknowledged. She knew right then she was in serious trouble. Maybe if she ignored what he did, he'd stop. No such luck because he dared further.

She felt him touch his hand just at the back of her head then combed his fingers down the length of her hair, felt the graze of his fingertips down her back.

Her eyes widened. Wait a damned minute, she said in thought.

Her head dropped down. What the hell, she screamed in thought, where did her heavy metal inspired ensemble go?!

Damn him, she huffed through her nose. She wore some damned dress, definitely his because it sure in the hell was not hers. She shook her head then stepped forward, his fingers forced back from her hair. "Nice choice," she sarcastically commented, "White, really? Could you be any more predictable?"

He asked, "Oh, would red be a better choice?" He stepped forward, the opportunity continued to loudly knock.

She looked down, now she was in damned red. "Oh, vampire red," she said then again sarcastically commented, "How so not original."

"Fine," he brought his hands against her shoulders, he most definitely could touch and feel.

Her shoulders slightly slumped upon his hands rested against them. She again looked down, black. "That's more my color but what gives with the whole Dracula's bride thing?" She definitely wanted to make things complicated for him.

She momentarily closed her eyes then opened them and looked down at her own choice, nodded with approval. A bit more her style, no ankle draped hem, more playful just above the knees with that more dramatic shredded look.

"You'd think," she mockingly commented, "Since you apparently used to know how to dress, that you would know how to dress a woman."

She stepped forward again which forced his hands from her shoulders. She turned to the side then gave an unimpressed expression and stated, "I bet you basically pulled out the same old touchy shit with Brewster's girlfriend." she sorta enjoyed the slyness about his expressive lips and eyes, "Probably put her in that whole vampire bridal gown thingy. She probably fits the whole white virginal look. She still fits that bill though Charley's tongue's down her throat majority of the time."

With a slight sneer about his top lip, he grumbled, "I don't give a damn what Charley does with his tongue unless it's being cut out of his mouth." he confessed, "And, yes, she wore that dress."

He took a step forward, hot for the pursuit, then shifted his demeanor. He slyly admired her ensemble and commented, "Now, what you're currently wearing, I will agree fits you divinely."

Yep, she thought, he was gonna start slinging flattery but she didn't entirely mind. The only flattery she remembered ever receiving was 'you're pretty'. She smartly inquired, "You admitting my taste is better than yours?"

"I don't know," he slyly spoke and scanned his eyes over her petite frame, "How do you taste?"

She quickly stated, "That was so lame," then nodded, "And that you ain't gonna find out. You keep anything remotely vampire away from me."

"Well, everything about me is vampire." he truthfully stated then curiously asked, "So where does that leave me?"

"Um," she gave a cocky tilt of her head, "Shit outta luck."

He took a few steps back, moved before the fireplace. The flames ignited and danced upon his mental prompt. He lifted his hand and offered her a place on the fur rug set before the fireplace, "Have a seat."

"Oh, that's convenient," she stated, frowned suspiciously at him, "Get me on the floor."

"Humor me," he said, kept his hand gestured to the rug, then urged, "Sit."

She huffed then stepped over onto the rug and mumbled, "Yeah, humor me for once."

She crouched and sat down with her legs tucked under her. She looked up at him,"Now what?" she asked with her typical cockiness, "What are you gonna do, stand there?"

"No," he again smirked with a sly glint in his dark eyes, "Join you." He lifted his hands then with his fingers undid the silver snaps of his shirt one by one.

"Oh, yay," she sarcastically murmured with a roll of her eyes.

He truly wished she would just stop talking, would make his task a lot easier.

The shirt was pulled from the belted waist of his slacks then drawn back over his shoulders and down his arms. Yes, there was a serious bout of déjà vu for him as the shirt dropped to the floor.

She tried to hide the obvious attraction in her eyes but it brightened their shade of blue. He lowered down onto the rug and seated himself before her as she sat somewhat turned to the side. He focused his eyes with hers. He saw it clearly how she so desperately wanted to hide any remote signs being allured by him. "This isn't so bad now is it?" he asked, his vocals calm and their typical smoothness.

"Awkward as hell more like it." she stated then whined, "I'm in my dream sitting beside a shirtless dead guy, that's awkward as hell."

"Would it be rude," he spoke up, seriously tired of her big mouth, "If I were to make the request for you to cease all your smart ass comments and encourage you to keep them to yourself from this moment on."

"What's the fun in that?" she broadly smirked, found his annoyance amusing because it was trivial for his so called seduction skills. She watched his face fade into seriousness. "Oh, you want me to lighten up on ya?" she asked and watched him give a simple short nod, "Okay, I'll button it but I don't know for how long, just a heads up."

"Oh, thank you," he sarcastically said, "The warning is greatly appreciated."

She gave him a wink and watched him take a moment to close his eyes, he definitely fought the urge to backlash at her. "So, am I allowed to ask you questions?" she asked a question.

"Yes," he finally opened his eyes, relinquished that final bit of annoyance she caused.

"Seriously, what did you really do to Amy Peterson?" she asked, honestly curious. She wondered. What was a vampire's routine when it came to getting what they wanted? What did he do to get what he wanted?

He read her honest curiosity within her thoughts then willingly explained, "I sat down before her just as I am in front of you but, unlike you, she faced me." he added, "Of course there is always mood music involved." He quickly caught the struggle to make a smart remark in her expression but she surprisingly held back.

He continued without interruption, "I looked in her eyes and saw what she desired and did exactly that, I kissed her. I kissed her as any woman desired to be kissed. No matter how old a woman is, seventeen or forty, they always desire to be kissed with sensual passion. She was hesitant at first, so inexperienced and, yes, I used my, if you want to call it, vampire wiles to lessen that hesitation from inexperience. But she eventually, willingly," his eyes briefly shifted to glance down at the side profile of her chest then again looked her in the eyes, "Well, she willingly shared then kissed me on her own accord. She wanted so badly to experience real passion and I delivered." He watched her press her lips together, so eager to give her colorful opinion. He was thankful she fought against that eagerness.

She had to ask, "Hey, you bit her didn't you?"

"How else was I going to truly get what I wanted." he honestly stated, "But I believe from what I remember she found it much more pleasurable than first thought. There was a definite eroticism she will never again experience that only I gave her."

"Hey, how'd she manage not to be like you?" she inquisitively asked.

"Oh she was, for a short time." he answered. He turned Amy as he had done Edward Thompson but his death reversed that transformation.

"Oh," she slightly nodded and blatantly said, "You died."

"Yes, Charley and Peter Vincent destroyed me that very morning and, so, they in turn saved her." he hated the thought of his death and how painfully the sun burned his flesh and sent him into that current purgatory for a trapped but still damned soul. He shook off those thought and stated, "But I suspect there will always be a part of me inside her. Perhaps she wonders how it might have been if I had succeeded instead of her boyfriend and Peter Vincent." then he asked though he more or less commented, "I'll never know, will I?"

"Guess not," she commented then she attempted to brighten the scenario, "Well, at least you're not burning in hell somewhere."

His eyes frowned. He had a sense he was in a type of hell, then confessed that thought, "I have come to believe there are different variances of hell and I'm stuck in one." he explained his hell, "An existence more secluded than the one I had before I died. An ironic punishment I would say."

"Yeah," she somewhat sighed then added, "And now on top of that you have to suffer with my big mouth, smart ass remarks, and blunt opinions."

"You're more pleasant than you think." he admitted to himself not just to her, "My home could've come into the hands of an elderly woman who would've filled it with over a dozen cats. I believe I may have lucked out when you moved in. You're at least very appealing to the eyes."

"Yeah," she said then smirked in response to her following statement, "Coulda been worse for me." she choked back a laugh then stated, "Ya coulda been some crispy critter looking ghost which woulda induced me into immediate vomiting."

"Oh, so, you again admit to my attractiveness." he smirked with that sly crook at the left corner of his mouth.

With a genuine smile, she quipped, "Well, the least I could do since you admitted to mine."

He immediately and smoothly complimented, "You are very beautiful, Rose." he felt the brush of succession, her walls almost vanished, and so, he asked, "Have you ever been told you were beautiful?"

"Cute," she quickly answered, "Pretty. And maybe I have been called beautiful because they always say I look like my Mom and she was beautiful." She nodded.

"Yes, she was as are you but you are beautiful in your own way because you're not identical to her." he explained, "You have your own beautiful face that doesn't mirror hers."

"But," she pointed up at the portrait and stated a fact, "You obviously liked Amy's face because it definitely mirrored hers."

He briefly glanced up at the portrait then looked back to her, "Yes," he agreed then stated, "But there shouldn't be two faces alike." he kept his tone cunningly soft, "That was unexpected, I admit, but the truth is, Amy wasn't the woman in the portrait and never would've been. Amy has to live her life knowing her face is shared with another's." he softened the expression about his eyes, "You on the other hand, your face is all your own. You're beauty is your own. Be thankful."

He dared not only him but her as well. He lifted his hand and brought the back of his fingers lightly brushed against the side of her face. Thankfully, she didn't flinch or lean away. "You're incredibly beautiful." he complimented, "You're a very beautiful woman." He knew it was just a matter of moments she would cave beneath his verbal charms and, of course, his impeccable good looks.

Was she a woman? She questioned herself. She was always told she was a young lady or just a teenager.

Her eyes suspiciously shifted in attempt to look at his hand then aimed her suspicion directly at him and asked, "Why are you being so nice?" her suspicion got the best of her, "Ain't it in your nature to be nice only when you want something?"

Oh, he wanted something alright, "Is that your experience?" he asked with a gentle intuitiveness, "Anyone who's ever been nice to you has always wanted something from you? Honestly, what motives would I have to be nice?"

"There's always an ulterior motive involved when anyone is untypically nice." she answered with that suspicion in her tone.

"Yes, you're right," he agreed, drew his hand back, "I have an ulterior motive." he watched her eyes narrow then he somewhat truthfully confessed, "As I've said, I've been alone for a year and for the first time in that year I'm not alone." Closely he watched her eyes soften expressing his moment of victory then added, "Though we've gotten off to a rocky start, I believe we could benefit from one another."

She quickly questioned his meaning, "How so?" She was unsure if he could be trusted, a self proclaimed womanizing vampire and all.

"I get the company and the socialization I've long desired since the moment I became invisible." he stated, bit by bit his words visibly showed their effect within the expression of her face and eyes, "And perhaps you get the same in return." he explained, "You're new to this town and without your friends. Also, just maybe, you'll realize that because of what I was doesn't make me bad or evil."

Her eyes shifted down and she thought, maybe he was right. Her life seemed pretty damned pathetic since she arrived there. She too invisible to everyone around her and at times invisible to her own father. The only open invitation she received those past few days was from a ghost and there was doubt that other invitations would follow from the living. She didn't want to be there anymore than he did. But how screwed up it seemed to have made a connection with a dead guy who a year prior was that small community's demon. Wow, she thought, her life was damned screwy.

Her eyes lifted and looked to his. There seemed only sincerity expressed within the dark brown of his eyes. She stated, "This is all too damned messed up." she slightly shook of her head then said with uncertainty, "What if you turn out to be just my desperate imagination gone haywire and I wake up and you don't even exist? I'm gonna feel like a total ass and likely check myself into the nearest metal ward."

"I'm not going anywhere unless the bowels of hell happen to finally open up for me." he commented, kept his tone soft, "I'll be here every evening when the clock strikes six, that's how's been for a year and I don't see any sign of change. Though there has been one change," he softly smiled, "You, Rose. You may not believe me but I see you as a blessing." He saw it happening, read clearly in her eyes that she finally caved.

Time to truly test the depths of his cunning achievement.

He again lifted his left hand and brought it gently to the right side of her face. It was so nice to again feel that warmth against his skin even if it were simply in a dream he conjured, not just for her but mostly for himself. Though it was a dream within her unconscious mind, he could touch and feel unlike when outside her mind. That dream state was the perfect setting to do what he always did best though it became more of a challenge. He knew outside the dream he would never have managed to get so close.

He leaned closer, prepared for that final approach and whispered, "I'm going to kiss you." He neared his lips to hers.

Suddenly she vanished.

"Son of a bitch!" he grumbled, watched his own essence begin to fade before his eyes.

_**(Author)**_

_**Poor Jerry, finally makes leeway and what happens? He got c*ck blocked! HAHA!**_

_**FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA!**_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Rose darted up out of sleep and looked up at the concerned face of her dad's. "Shit," she breathed heavily, "Dad."

"Sorry," John apologized, "I came into the house and you weren't anywhere so I came in here." he frowned and asked, "Are you feeling okay, kiddo?"

"Um, yeah," she mumbled, felt a bit disorientated then asked, "What time is it?"

"Near eight-thirty, you hungry?" he asked, saw her somewhat dazed expression, "Picked up your favorite fried chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy."

She nodded and said, "Yeah, sounds great."

He smiled and said, "Okay, come on down." He reached, patted her on the head then turned and left the room.

Upon the door closing, she looked around her room. "That was," she mumbled, "I don't know." She pulled the blankets back and brought her feet to the floor.

Felt a tad shaky, she left her room to join her dad and brother in the dining room for supper. She kept pretty quiet the entire time, two and a half hours felt like several. Her mind was scrambled, thoughts confused and mixed up. She started to have a hard time determining the differences between dream and reality. Was it all just a dream?

Once finished eating, she took care of the paper plates and leftovers while her dad got Jacob ready for bed. She took a moment to return upstairs, somewhat reluctantly, and fetched one of her mom's old nightgowns she saved from donation then retreated downstairs to hopefully shower away her shakiness. She took a long hot shower unable to get those dreamed images out of her head, it was as if he was still in her mind.

After the shower she said goodnight to her dad who had just returned from tucking Jacob in for the night.

"Hey," John spoke up as Rose stepped onto the landing, "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Dad." Rose glanced at her dad, "Just getting used to school and all. I'm tired that's all."

"Well, get some sleep and see you in the morning. Don't forget to set your alarm okay." John smiled then headed down the stair to go to the living room to continue with more paperwork.

"Okay," she softly said then moved towards her room.

She stepped to the double doors and stood for a moment somewhat leery about returning to her room, unsure what was going to happen next. She took a deep breath and entered the room. So far the temperature was normal and cozy. She stepped to the bed and cranked the alarm clock for six-thirty in the morning. Turning around, she scanned the room then reluctantly moved to the overhead light switch. Her hand lingered at the switch with her eyes looking about the room.

With another deep breath she flipped the light off then moved back to the bed. She sat down and scanned the shadows. Her legs tucked under the blankets then she laid back and pulled the covers up to her chest. Her eyes focused on the ceiling and gradually her eyes adjusted to the dark.

Inside her there was a struggle, cautious about both falling asleep or staying awake. Both were equally off setting. She hadn't heard a single peep since her dad woke her nor saw a single hint of that ghostly presence. Maybe everything that had happened never really happened, she hoped, just her mind playing tricks.

She dared and closed her eyes as her hands gripped the covers.

His eyes stared down at her. He kept his silence the entire time she was awake. He hoped that all his work hadn't gone bust the moment she opened her eyes. Very watchful, he silently stood beside her bed, waited for the moment she was again brought into a deep sleep.

His mind spoke out. _Sleep, Rose, sleep for me. I need you to dream. You need to dream and dream of me. _His eyes gently closed with his mind focused on hers. _Yes, Rose, I'm waiting for you in your dreams. _His lips formed their cunning grin. He felt her begin to fall beneath the power of deep sleep. Such a fragile mind and so easy to enter and enter her mind he did the moment her eyes began to shift beneath closed lids.

His eyes drifted open then looked down at her.

In their combined rooms, he stood beside the bed she had brought with her. She looked peaceful asleep within her dream, their dream. Now he had until the clocks chimed the rise of dawn.

He carefully moved onto the bed, dressed as he was in the prior dream with the shirt removed and barefoot. His eyes closely focused on her peaceful and lovely face. Yes, she was beautiful, that he never fabricated.

In her peaceful state he took the time to truly admire her beautiful features. Her soft oval face surrounded delicate features that were a petite well shaped nose. He brought his fingertip and lightly traced the bridge of her nose. Her lips were subtle in fullness and a naturally pale rose pink. The tip of his finger grazed down the center of her relaxed mouth. His eyes looked to hers, a natural pink shadow over the closed lids with slightly pale reddish brown and modestly thick lashes, above were pale strawberry blonde brows with a slight arch.

Yes, very lovely, he praised in thought.

His fingers curled under then brushed back against her naturally pale cheek with just a small dusting of freckles. He leaned down, his fingers uncurled, his hand gently rested against the side of her face. _I'm going to kiss you_, he spoke out through his mind.

Her closed eyes frowned, brow slightly furrowed. Her eyes darted open just as her ghost was about to finish where he left off.

With a startle, she pushed upward and to her left, "What do you think you're doing?" she immediately asked then looked at him. He was again too damned real.

"I was about to do what I had intended on doing before your father woke you." he blatantly answered, "I was going to kiss you."

"No shit," she quickly agreed.

"Was I wrong to assume that a kiss was about to happen earlier before that unfortunate interruption?" he asked, pushed himself seated then reached his hand to the side of her face.

She quickly leaned back and looked at him as if he shouldn't be there.

With a frown of deceptive confusion, he stated, "I thought you wanted me to kiss you."

"I don't know," she said, confused, then confessed, "I thought all of it was just some crazy mind screw up. I really thought you didn't exist because," her eyes frowned, so damned confused, "I don't know, maybe because I…" She couldn't explain any of her thoughts.

"I exist," he responded to her confusion then stated, "I'll prove that I exist."

He again reached and she oddly leaned further propped back with her hands against the bed, "Don't be afraid." he urged then encouraged, "Let me touch you and you'll feel that I exist." He watched her softly shake her head with reluctance and knew he had to make some repairs, fix the damage the interruption caused.

"Please, Rose," he deceptively pleaded, "When I touch you it proves to me that I exist." he spoke as a softness was about his eyes. Yet, her reluctance held prominently in her eyes but so was the confusion. "Fine," he was determined to return things as they were before the interruption and offered, "Then you touch me and you'll feel that I'm real, that I exist."

He swiftly took her hand in his, she hesitantly pulled back but he held firm. Cautiously, for her, he brought her hand against the side of his face and softly spoke, "There, do you feel that I'm real. Only in your dreams am I physical, touchable, and," he turned his head against the feel of her hand and gently but briefly pressed his lips against the palm, kept his eyes focused on hers, "And very capable of kissing you."

His hand over hers, he brought it down against his chest, "I want to kiss you, Rose." he stated with his voice velvety smooth then cunningly asked, "Don't you want me to kiss you?" He shifted hands, brought his left hand over hers and held it pressed against his chest. His right hand slid down against her forearm, over the crook of her elbow and moved up against her upper arm. The desire was there in her wide eyes as he knew it was in his. He slid his hand up and over the curve of her shoulder then rested it against the side of her neck. Lightly he brushed back the length of her hair. He leaned forward and lifted his left hand from over hers which remained against his chest. He reached, brought his left hand against the other side of her neck.

Her chest heaved as her eyes were widely locked with his. Her heart raced but was it excitement or fear that pounded inside her chest?

Her eyes shifted between frowning and relaxing, the thoughts were so damned confusing. It was just a dream, she tried convincing herself, he was just a damned dream gone wrong. Or was it wrong? She couldn't decipher. She couldn't deny what she read in those archives that told of the horrors of that small community where a well hidden madman took lives of a few. Charley Brewster's involvement and the others as well all wove a tale that the madman was a magician and said he drew them all into a dark world that gave him the persona of a vampire. Then he said he was a vampire and they killed him at the break of dawn.

What was fact and what was fiction? What was real and what wasn't?

Yeah, sure, she felt his hands against the sides of her neck but it was a dream and you feel whatever you wanted in a dream. She wasn't even sure if she wanted that dream, to be in that dream alone with the infamous monster that seemed to still haunt Charley Brewster. But was he really a monster?

Oh, everything was so damned confusing because of what she read and what he had told her.

He read it all in her eyes and heard it all in her mind. He read and heard it all as she desperately scrambled through her thoughts for any remotely logical answer. He couldn't allow her to grasp any fears which weren't logical for his need of her. He needed control but to achieve it was to give her the sense of her own.

"This is your dream, Rose," his voice spoke with such cunning melody, "You have control to do whatever you want in your dreams."

"Do I?" she questioned him and herself with a breathy tone. She watched him gently nod.

Did she have control? Sometimes it seemed that way then other times it seemed he had the control.

"Go ahead," he encouraged and burned his eyes deeper into hers, "Do whatever you want. Make it anything you want."

Whatever she wanted. Anything she wanted. She lightly closed her eyes and repeated in her mind, _whatever I wanted, anything I wanted._

**_(Author)_**

**_More of that dream coming... Oh, my, what's going to happen? Duh, we already know, don't we?_**

**_FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA!_**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Jerry's eyes shifted, felt the changes within the environment. His lips smirked, she was doing it and took that bit of control he relinquished to her.

The walls collapsed away into nothing before his eyes. He felt the change in the temperature, warmth filled the air. He smelled the change of scents, the distinct scent of salty air that only came from the ocean. He hadn't been near the ocean in decades but remembered the scent all too well.

His eyes again shifted upward and looked to a brilliant evening sky filled with millions of stars. Again his eyes shifted, looked passed her and saw the ocean. The reflection of the moon was vivid against slightly turbulent waters that were nearly the same midnight shade as the sky above. Very impressive, he thought, more impressive than his manifestations within the dreams.

He refocused on her. Never had he thought that he would ever come that close to the world outside the house and she gave him that opportunity if only in her dream. He watched her eyes open, she looked at what she managed to create then a soft smile of remembrance crossed over her lips. This was where she believed she belonged, as her thoughts proclaimed. It was where she originally came from, her homeland of sorts. She gave him an intimate part of her life that in reality he could never be part of or see.

"Huh," she was surprised, her eyes took in the memory of a fragment of her precious East Coast and said, "Welcome to my home."

She loved the smell of the ocean that she spent so many hours enjoying with her family during the summer months and in the chiller months she would come there with friends. Late at night on weekend evenings she and her friends would build bonfires and enjoyed the soft sounds of the ocean. The cliffs that surrounded them amplified heavy metal music they loved and shared.

"This is where I come from." she stated as her eyes shifted and looked to him, "This is where I belong, not in the Midwest where the ocean is too far away."

"Thank you for bringing me here." he sincerely thanked her because for his year long confinement was torture and she gave him somewhat freedom, "This might only be your dream but this will be the closest I'll ever come to seeing any of this."

"Yeah, imagine if it were daylight." she commented and watched his eyes frown which intensified the defining lines between his brows. She had to amusingly grin at his expression then asked, "This is my dream, wouldn't you think you could survive in the daylight if it's just a dream?"

"I'm not sure if that's a risk I'm willing to take." he responded with uneasiness for his last date with daylight gave him death, "But this is perfect." he again smiled, "Night is more my element, wouldn't you agree?"

"Ha, yeah," she slightly laughed. There was more ease having brought them both there, if only in her dream. "I think it's more beautiful at night anyways." she stated with a softer smile.

"Exactly," he agreed and was admittedly more impressed by her than thought possible, "You have a gift."

"A gift?" she asked with a questioning frown.

"Yes, you have the gift to control your dreams and make them into whatever you like them to be. I told you." he explained, she truly had a gift then stated in question, "Do you know that I haven't dreamed in a thousand years?" he watched her gently shake her head, "When a vampire sleeps it's actually not sleep, it's death. I can't remember a single dream I had when I was, well, technically alive. When you can't dream you forget but thanks to you," he never thought he would hear so much sincerity in his own words, "Though these are your dreams, well, they've become my own as well. Thank you."

"I guess you're welcome," she replied, heard in his voice that he truly appreciated whatever she had done.

She guessed like every person in the world, she took for granted the gift of dreams. Dreams were escape from reality but for him, as a vampire, he had no escape for what he claimed was a very, very long thousand years. And, also, there was no escape for him from that ghostly vampire existence either. He had no physical escape from the walls of that house.

She jokingly asked, "So, am I like your ticket to destinations unknown?" she laughed, "Oh, you're gonna be getting into my head all the damned time now."

"Only if you want me there." he answered but intended to be there every time she fell asleep. With her gift, he quite possibly could do as he once had and travel throughout the world and all its countries. Hmm, he smiled in thought, with her around death wasn't as bad as it was before she came along.

"I'll have to think about it." she sarcastically quipped and watched him curiously frown his very attractive large brown eyes, "Oh, I know better," she stated, "You can get into my head without my permission but you're not all that bad, well, in my head."

"Why thank you," he appreciated her more subtle sarcasm, "So," time to get back to the task at hand, "You never answered my question."

"What question was that?" she asked, honestly didn't recall any real question before she created that little piece of memorabilia dreamland heaven.

"Now that you've created your perfect environment," he paused to watch as the salty ocean breeze gently tossed the lengths of her hair about the sides of her face. It was incredibly refreshing to feel that imagined breeze against his own face. Then he finally asked, "Would you like the perfect kiss?"

"Perfect?" she slyly asked, lifted her hands then tucked back the strands of hair that brushed against her face.

"Yes, perfect," he confidently said for he was a perfectionist by nature, of course, "The perfect environment deserves the perfect kiss."

"Well, it's my dream," she spoke with a slight smirk, "I suppose any kiss in my dream would be perfect."

"That's the spirit." he definitely enjoyed her softer sarcasm.

"No, you're the spirit." she choked a little laugh and watched his smile fade and eyes softly narrow, "Sorry, I couldn't resist."

"No, I assume you couldn't," he commented but wasn't allowing that opportunity get away, "And I can't resist any longer."

Before she could even question him with her big mouth, he swiftly reached then grabbed the sides of her face and pulled her forward.

Her eyes flinched wide the moment his lips were against hers. She was stunned the moment she felt the light motion of his lips. He wasn't as aggressive as she first assumed. She thought vampires would be full throttle aggressive kissers. Hell, even teenage guys were more aggressive, lacked any type of restraint.

Her eyes drifted closed. Perhaps that was the definition of the perfect kiss. He was once a vampire and so vampires always were perfectionists, she guessed.

A little soundtrack developed in her mind in response to that possible perfect kiss. Perhaps the song wasn't entirely romantic but in more of a morbid type of romantic, tragic and sad in an obsessive way. From the depths of her mind and into that perfect environment sang the vocals of Geoff Tate's within the metal melody that was Gonna Get Close To You by Queensryche. The song echoed against the sprawling cliffs surrounding the shoreline, just as she remembered.

How many times she listened to that particular song over and over when something truly failed in the so called boyfriend department. Such a tragic song, she always thought, you want something so badly you would go to any lengths to get it even if it meant stalking a particular obsession to death. Yes, morbid but then again, she was being kissed by the ghost of a vampire. What's more morbid than that?

It was her dream, let her have what she wanted while he got his in return and that's what he convinced himself. Surely the music that filled the evening ocean air wasn't his taste by any means but if it got her where he needed her, so let it be.

Yes, he felt the song's inspiration in the manner she finally returned his kiss, it definitely helped. And, yes, she was far more superior when it came to experience in comparison to the kiss he received from Amy Peterson, the last kiss he received.

With the young, sweet, and so adorably innocent Amy, experience wasn't there which gave him complete control which he typically preferred. Yet, young but not so sweet and far from innocent and definitely not adorable but youthfully beautiful Rose didn't suffer from as much inexperience which lightened his control. He found it refreshing being without the weight of maintaining complete control which gave him some breathing room, per say.

There was a great bit of work to get where she finally come, so much effort in such a short period of time. The time came for him to reap the rewards for such effort, her accepting his kiss and he hers, was only part of those rewards. He wouldn't let the likes of her heavy metal ballads side track him and admittedly, he heard worse throughout the centuries which included that particular evening of dancing at Club Radio where he performed nicely even with those awful club tunes.

Oh, yeah, she started to see the light though it was pretty much silhouetted by the darkness of what he truly was. The more she felt his lips kiss against hers, hers kissing his, the more she just willingly accepted it as the sickest form of fate ever dealt in her hand of life's messed up playing cards. Each card became the black king but not of spades, the king of black hearts.

She sighed the moment his lips drew back from hers. Her eyes drifted open, slowly formed a frown. There was a change in his eyes. So, she guessed, that's what a vampire's eyes looked like. Oddly, she thought the red within his large eyes pretty and the outline of fiery orange and the blackness of the pupils seemed to intensify the strange beauty. Supernatural beauty, she mentally described his eyes. She didn't even tense or frighten when she felt the scrape of his unnaturally long nails as they grazed back against the sides of her face. This was her dream. There was nothing to fear which included the fangs she felt through that kiss.

"What's it like?" she asked him, her voice filled with gentle curiosity.

"What's what like?" he asked, felt the fangs brush behind his lips. He saw the curiosity in her intuitive eyes as they shifted in study of the changes he knew occurred.

She wasn't fearful of the subtle glimpse of his fangs, "To be bitten?" she asked, "Like what you did to Amy Peterson."

Well, she surprised him with such a question, obviously more curious than fearful. Even those thoughts inside her mind spoke no fear. "I couldn't entirely say what her experience was." he explained, curious to why she asked such a question, "For what I remember, there was pain at first but I believe the pain subsided into something else. What I remember, having done it more times than I could count, each one is different. Each individual person had their own response. Some might scream with fear and many have simply expressed a type of euphoria." he added, "Honestly, I never asked."

"So," she pressed him.

He was impressed by her growth of curiosity. He never really discussed that subject before with anyone including Billy. "So, I suppose it all depends on the person. As for me, there was nothing more pleasurable," he smirked, "That is me conducting that particular type of kiss." He watched her eyes frown in response to how he referred to the bite as a kiss. "Yes," he gave a nod, "I refer to it as a kiss though it is by far more intimate than a kiss between lips."

Ah, such bittersweet memories, though many of those particular kisses somewhat blended as they became more an action out of pure necessity instead of real intimacy. Amy Peterson was the last time he intimately performed such a kiss.

He was curious why she asked and simply inquired, "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering," she vaguely answered, wasn't too sure about her reasons.

His head slightly turned with a suspicious tilt then he asked, "Are you perhaps wondering if something like that is possible here in your dreams and if you would suffer the same consequences as Amy?" He studied every shift of her expression. Obviously she was curious. But how curious and to what extent would she go to have that curiosity satisfied?

"I don't know," she answered, really wasn't certain her purpose was having asked such a question.

"I've been wondering the same thing." he confessed and, yes, wanted to know if feeding was a possibility in that dreamland, "It's only a natural curiosity but I would never act on that curiosity unless permitted by you." Again, he gave the impression of control.

He truly wondered if there would be any effect outside the dream if he did pierce her beautiful warm flesh with his fangs. But most of all, he wondered if he could even indulge in the flavor of dreamlike blood. With a cunning hint of encouragement, he encouraged, "Again, Rose, your dream, your call."

Yes, she agreed in thought, her dream.

Her eyes looked away as the concept was almost overbearing, so tempting. Should she take advantage of such a temptation? Would there be repercussions if she gave into the temptation? How could there be repercussions when it was a dream? If he could kiss and touch her then why couldn't he use those spectral vampire fangs?

She determined, she would be doing both of them a bit of service.

Her eyes lifted and again looked to his soft expression. Not even the red of his eyes deterred her from such a tempting thought. She asked, "What do think would happen?" She tried to reassure the direction she headed.

"I honestly can't tell you." he truthfully stated but anticipated she would give them both the opportunity to find out. Then again he watched her eyes shift in thought as a decision was being made and patiently he waited.

"Do you think it'll hurt?" she asked, desperate to make that choice, "I mean because this is all a dream."

"Again, I can't tell you." he stated and expertly hid his anticipation, kept his expression soft and content. Again, patience was the key for he had no choice.

She continued to think. She contemplated how to approach such an uncertain thing. "How would you do it?" she asked, full of questions and concerns.

"I'll leave that up to you." he answered and, again, gave the impression of her control. Perhaps there was more than an impression of control because she did quite well on her own. She headed in the right direction which the direction he wanted her to go.

"Okay," she agreed then thought more. There was so much thought but it wasn't your typical light hearted subject that could be decided on a quick whim.

She again looked him in the eyes, the red still brilliant and oddly beautiful. Maybe, she thought, it should be approached like having sex for the first time, build up to it and not just get it over and done with. She thought more, he described it as an intimate experience, well, intimacy she wanted if she was going to attempt so much uncertainty. Just like sex. Well, she hadn't entirely had sex. So what did she really know?

She knew the steps that led up to sex, well, guessed she knew. Third base was the furthest reaches into sex she eve gone and chickened out before a true play of the game was finished.

Wow, she giggled in thought, she was about to head into a totally other direction and with a ghost vampire of all things.

She made up her mind but not without conditions. Her dream, her conditions. "Um," she stammered, tried to find the words to explain her conditions, "I'm not sure how to put this." She felt somewhat awkward.

He found her awkwardness attractive which made her face easily blush. "Please," he spoke up to ease her awkwardness, "I agree."

"Agree?" she frowned, did he hear her thoughts.

"I agree that this is an honor." he said, beamed on the inside with the thought of possibly tasting blood again, "And I promise to make this a pleasurable experience for you and myself. I don't take this lightly by any means. It might be my only opportunity as well as yours and so," he reached his hand and gently brought his lengthened fingers and nails against the side of her heated cheek, "I will take all the time needed to ensure the full potential of this intimate experience." He watched her softly nod. He found her willing acceptance lovely, for it was from no result of mesmerizing, she did it all on her own with little encouragement from him.

His eyes focused within hers as his long fingers combed back into the length of her strawberry blonde hair. He leaned forward, combed his fingers deeper beneath the hair at the nap of her neck then gently pressed his lips against hers, she immediately responded without hesitation. He gradually heightened the passion of his kiss and her lips instinctively followed his lead.

Damn, he missed it all. There was so much he took for granted throughout his lengthy existence and never thought once that his existence would come to an abrupt end.

_Thank you, Rose_, he spoke with his mind, _thank you for this, Rose_.

Yes, she praised in thought, definitely he was the perfect kisser even with the fangs. None of those boys could compare to this ghostly creature's expertise which was easily determined by how expertly his lips moved against hers. And so, she pushed back any lingering fears. It was her choice, her decision to have that experience.

She never shuddered when she felt the lengthy nails of his other hand move against the side of her neck then graze lightly down over her shoulder. So far it was more intimate than anything else she remotely experienced in her short life. Surely a creature of his lengthy life span had more knowledge when it came to the art of foreplay and everything it led up to than any damned teenage boy. Yes, he was far from a boy, way beyond that of a man.

She lightly trembled, not with fear but with a type of excitement. She felt his nails drag down the length of her arm, the length of his thumbnail lightly grazed against the outer side of her covered youthful breast. She instinctively leaned deeper into the kiss and accepted the subtle exploration of his tongue. Her hands lifted and cupped the sides of his face, she had no care that his skin was chilled compared to hers. Then she subtly gasped the moment he led her back down against ground near the outlook of cliffs before her created ocean view.

The heat of her skin felt almost miraculous as it burned against him. His hands practically tingled in response to her glorious body heat. His lips burned with her heat kissed against them. There was nothing like mortal heat, he beamed in thought, missed indulging in such heavenly heat. He wanted to indulge more and more and heat his own skin with the use of hers then by the heat of her sweet blood, so he hoped. Could he quite possibly feel more alive than when he had as a living immortal? It quite possibly felt that way. Not even his moment with Amy Peterson gave him that rush of life, seemed so minuscule in comparison to his moment with Rose.

His right hand moved down along the curve of her youthful hip then gathered the hem of her nightgown with his lengthy fingers and nails. She was so much more responsive to his touch, her youthful body not intimidated by his obvious abundance of experience. No, not like those multitudes of whores who took little to seduce for they would move any way requested or expected with hopes of an earned dollar. He was definitely going to enjoy it for everything it was worth and undoubtedly the enjoyment would be mutual on her part. So far, the enjoyment was mutual because, of course, it was him, Jerry Dandridge.

She simply allowed herself to become lost in it all. She guessed it was the only way to be in such a strange situation. If she thought about it in real depth, likely it would be as it was in all those real moments with boys which meant she would chicken out.

She kept her eyes closed, focused on all the physical sensations, most were definitely new to her but pleasureable nonetheless. His hands were unlike those that eagerly touched her in the past. There was firmness in the touch of his exploring hands but at the same time, there was an unlikely gentleness. The gentleness assumed unlikely because of what he was or had been. He obviously wanted to take his time which she appreciated, helped her to push away any reservations. Surely Amy Peterson didn't get that kind of treatment which she determined made her special.

Her hands moved back against his thick dark hair. He felt damned real to her. He was more real than anything else that was part of her dreams in the past. He was even more real than those boys outside her dreams. Maybe she just wanted it to be real then again, maybe it was real.

Her body pressed upward against his the moment his hand moved beneath her nightgown and pressed a chilled but firm touch against her exposed hip. Yes, he definitely knew what he was doing because she never felt herself respond in that manner.

Hmm, he practically hummed, she fell deeper and deeper into the waves of his expert actions. Not at all innocent were her physical responses which suited him just fine. And what suited him more was the sound of her shuddered gasp the moment he delivered his hand between her young thighs. He lavished in the heat of that gasp against his lips. But, even more so, her body's quick response to his actions suited him divinely.

How had he managed to forget the true pleasures in the exploration of a youthful and beautiful woman?

Damn, he regretted not taken his time with Amy. If he had, who knew what responses he might have provoked out of her virginal inexperience. He immediately knew that Rose was technically virginal but her level of experience surpassed Amy's, that was for certain. Only one who had tasted certain heightened carnal urges responded as she had. Yet, he knew she definitely hadn't experienced carnal completion.

Ah, yes, there was nothing more rewarding than the presentation of a virgin's first initial experience. He knew by what she likely experienced, she never knew true satisfaction because teen boys were lousy and too damned eager to please their own needs. Well, he admitted, he fell victim to his own selfish needs far too many times. Yet, who truly would want to give pleasure to a common whore? He did have his limits to who deserved his true attention and unique affections. And he refused to deny Rose, knew by the end he would reap the reward, taste what his actions filled within the delicate flavors of her blood. He would savor her incredible journey step by step then savor the flavors that were created.

A multitude of hungers and desires ignited inside him, far too long they were forced dormant.

His determination raised as did the depth and passion of his kiss. He expertly heightened the action of his hand, felt her body again eagerly respond as it should. He tasted her breath the moment she heavily sighed. Such excitement the moment he felt her arms wrap around his neck to bury her lips deeper against his followed by her again upwardly pressed against him. Such a firm stroke of his neglected ego when he heard her soft gasped moan the moment he delivered to her body the first true taste of pleasure and how wondrous her bodily responses.

Yes, he admittedly forgot the pure rush given when the discovery was made to what truly pleased such a young body. He forgot the boast of pride when the deed was done to pure perfection. And he forgot the benefit that she would never have that first experience ever again which would make him all the more desirable and definitely wanted.

For someone so young as Rose, it was an addiction in the process. Yes, he proudly proclaimed that he was probably the most addictive drug known to mortal women or men. Vampires were always addictive to a mortal. Vampires will always be adored and envied thanks to the written words and those many films but a true vampire was even more addictive. He pridefully became her addiction and her his, when that particular moment came.

She was beyond enraptured. Her eyes barely opened even if she wanted them to. Her body felt on fire. Nothing prepared her for that burst into pure sexual flames. It was more than perfect, beyond her expectations.

Where the hell had he been all her entrance into that swarm of teenaged hormones?

That's right, he once was somewhere in the world living his immortal life sucking the lives out of common hookers. Then he just happened to be haunting the damned house she moved into.

She determined right then that fate was a total screw when it came down to it. Why hadn't she moved there when he wasn't some ghost in her dreams? Yet, would it have remotely been the same experience?

She was the only one who saw or heard him and, right then, feel in him within the confines of her sleeping imagination. Yes, in her dreams he wouldn't be if he had lived. He was her secret and she wanted to hold onto that secret. She had no desire to share his existence with anyone. She would never take a chance he would be removed, taken away from her. He was the only damned stimulating thing in her current life. Sure he made her miserable at the beginning but in such a short time he became of great importance.

She tightened her embrace around his neck in a type of determination to hold on to that dream, fantasy, or whatever it was. Unlike the life of her mother's, she could hold onto his ghost, spirit, or whatever the hell you call him!

His moment came. With precise action he kissed from her lips and pressed his against the flush of her cheek then delighted, sweet heat. Her head eagerly shifted to the side. His hand brushed back the hair from the side of her neck then firmly he pressed his lips over that sweet heated pulse of life. Her sighs and moans of heightened pleasure were signals his nature's true intimacy would soon be given.

His head lifted as he parted his lips for the first time in a year and exposed those eager fangs in all their sinister glory. Her body stiffened as it eagerly pressed firmer against his, signaled that his time was now.

With swift and perfect precision his fangs pierced the hot flesh and, yes, he could taste the benefits of his actions with the quick burst of her practically burning blood. Oh, how he missed that ultimate finale, heard the sweet melody of her gasped squeal responding to the initial pain of his penetrating kiss combined with the perfectly delivered climax. Sweet divinity flavored her blood and gave life to his delicate palate. He hummed with pure delight which mingled with her euphoric moans. For heightened measure, he bit harder and buried his fangs as deep as possible to ensure a steady flow.

Suddenly, something struck him.

His eyes snapped open with surprise. He drew back as she continued to softly moan. His eyes shifted and looked to her dazed expression.

_Oh, Rose_, his mind spoke, _oh, poor, Rose._

He hadn't expected what her blood would tell him. Most circumstances he ignored anything but his own selfish greed. His eyes oddly softened then became alert to that call.

The clocks chimed.

He looked to her and again his eyes softened.

He faded upon the chime of dawn.

_**(Author)**_

_**Yeah, how many of you who've been working on reading this have become totally lost because of my decision to put it into more chapters and replace it with the corrected, edited, and added stuff, huh? My bad! I wasn't satisfied because I truly wanted to make sure the music was correct for the time and was placed as a precise soundtrack! Sorry!**_

_**FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA!**_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

The alarm clock went off and sounded monstrously loud.

Rose darted awake with a gasp then reached and slammed her hand to end the alarm. That began the first day of a new void in her life.

She peered into the mirror that morning and saw a dark bruise at the side of her neck nearly in the shape of two misshapen circles. The days that followed the bruise faded and when the chime of the clocks was heard, her ghost never returned or invaded her dreams. Maybe he was just a dream, she thought with confusion, but never explained the faded bruise on the side of her neck. Each day, she returned home from school with the hopes he would again manifest but he never did.

By the weekend, the rest of the belongings in the basement were removed, those clocks were taken away which seemed to take him with them. She did, however, steal some things from the basement, clothing that she knew were his.

He couldn't have been just a dream, her heart constantly told her, too real to be just a mere dream. She knew his name before she read it in those archives. But inside her arose a sinking feeling that again something was taken from her right when she needed it.

Again she was made to feel alone.

Days then weeks dragged on and on for poor Rose. She suffered through dinner with the neighbors, of course Charley didn't attend which she was glad. School never changed, not a single friend was made for she held back and cowered away from her peers, maintained her invisibility amongst them. She withdrew further from her dad and brother, hid away in the seclusion of her bedroom. Her appetite changed, seemed minuscule at best, was it the result of that miraculous moment she was so curious about? Had she been somehow infected or was it her cruel mind that conjured that moment with him?

She persistently and relentlessly thought of him. Her mind overrun with ideas, scenarios, and completely frustrating confusion.

When time neared for Thanksgiving break she didn't accept the invitation to spend the holiday with the family back east. Her dad was hesitant to leave her alone but she assured him she would be fine and produced a yarn that she was invited to attend a 'friend's' family dinner. She had no friends, though he never noticed.

Yes, Jerry Dandridge hadn't showed himself all those weeks. He was there, always would be there for he was stuck within those walls. But why hadn't he shown himself to her? What possessed him to set aside those motives he had tirelessly strove to achieve?

Night after night the ghostly vampire struggled with what he learned. From that intimate kiss her blood revealed to him something unexpected. Had his year without tasting delectable blood heightened his palate which in turn alerted him? Had his delicate palate dulled after centuries of feeding and made him incapable of tasting what he tasted in her blood?

His memory gave no recollection of ever having tasted what he had within her blood. I wasn't positive but something was truly tasted which resulted in him to oddly retreat.

Night after night he stood beside her bed as she slept. He stood silent in his troublesome thoughts. Technically he was no longer alone but strangely, he made himself again alone by not speaking to her or again entering her dreams. In his immortal life he remotely ever showed any struggle with any thoughts, let alone troubling thoughts. Had a year of ghostly living weakened his typically harsh nature that fed his greedy selfish needs?

He stood and watched her sleep, nothing alleviated him of any of those emotions that were unlike his true nature. Since when did he have a conscience?

He never had a damned conscience in the past, that he remembered. He never hesitated even when Amy Peterson looked at him in fear, simply took it as a slight speed bump. What the hell was wrong with him? Had death truly taken away most of his vampire's natural instincts to not give a damn?

He didn't have any damned answers that's what he knew for certain and it frustrated the hell out of him. And another struggle frustrated him.

He had a serious desire to speak up. Those struggles were persistent through each evening hour that passed. He seemed obsessed, unable to desist from his silent watch over her as she slept.

John and Jacob left for the east coast on a Saturday morning.

Rose waved goodbye with a smile on her face but the moment they vanished from sight her smile faded. She looked different, felt different, and thought different. Her naturally pale skin seemed paler, eyes a bit hallowed, and inside she felt pain, emotional and physical pain.

She entered the house, closed and locked the door behind her. She retreated to her room, always her room, nowhere else and been so for weeks. She entered the bedroom and crawled under the covers. All she wanted to do was sleep and sleep and sleep. Perhaps she hoped he would again manifest. But her dreams seemed lifeless, odd since the lifeless ghost was no more, her dreams seem so lifeless. When he was there, it seemed she could transform her dreams into whatever she wanted them to be. But in his absence, she lacked the ability to make her dreams as she wanted for, without him, it seemed pointless.

She woke from those colorless dreams and sat up, saw daylight peeked through the drawn shades. She reluctantly got out of bed then went downstairs to ease whatever aches that seemed to have developed with the use of the depths of a steaming bath.

In a ritualistic fashion, she sunk down into the hot water filled tub with her headphones over her ears. Yet, what played was not her typical heavy metal but his music. She actually developed a liking for his weird instrumental music and with her troubled state of mind the music seemed almost soothing. She started to hum the melody that also belonged to the music box.

Through the music she swore she heard the clocks but they were removed from the basement.

She sat up and pulled the headphones back and listened. Was it her mind playing tricks on her?

Damn her mind, she frowned, then adjusted on her side and leaned against the slant of the tub with her back to the bathroom door. She slipped the headphones back over her ears but her eyes focused on the window, almost complete darkness passed the window. She closed her eyes, her mind focused on the instrumental. She heard all the different electric keyboard notes and drums but the most powerful was the sound of the electric violin.

She sighed, the water had cooled.

Stiffly she shifted then pulled herself up. Out of the tub she did the typical stuff, dried off, blow dried her hair, then dressed comfortably. She raided the fridge, grabbed a soda and red apple.

In the living room, she crawled onto the sofa and flipped through channel after channel as she crunched into the apple.

It seemed like hours and hours that she sat there and flipped through a bunch of nonsense, useless commercials and television shows. She got up off the sofa, near ten-thirty, and fetched another soda and apple.

She returned to the living room, flopped back down and crunched into the apple. Her eyes frowned.

The room temperature dropped.

She shook her head, denied herself any hopes. She decided, to forget was probably her best option. She pulled the quilt up higher and again bit into the apple.

"I miss fruit." that voice spoke up from nowhere.

She froze in mid bite then slowly turned her head, eyes followed. Not a dream, her mind screamed and almost spilled out of her mouth.

There he was, the ghost of Jerry Dandridge the vampire sat casually on the other end of the sofa. He still wore the gray trench, red scarf, dark gray slacks, and snap button shirt.

Her hand slowly lowered, the apple rolled from her loosened grip and fell to the floor with a muted thud. Just when she gave up, tried to convince herself he never existed, he suddenly reappeared. She was speechless. She stared at him with wide eyes then watched him finally turn his head and look at her.

"Whatever you do," he spoke up, "Please don't watch Fright Night when it comes on at eleven. Besides the poor quality of the movies, I loathe Peter Vincent with a passion as you might understand."

She slowly nodded, somewhat chewed the piece of apple then strained to swallow. Then she finally found her voice and it was angry, "Where the hell you been?! I thought I lost my damned mind! I thought you were just something my screwy head came up with."

"I've always been here." he stated. He reluctantly admitted to himself the dislike of the slight sickly appearance that had developed within those passing weeks.

"Bullshit," she snapped, "I would've known."

"Not unless I wanted you to know." he honestly explained.

She no longer held back her frustrations. She sat up from her lean against the sofa arm then loudly asked, "And why the hell would you do something like that, huh?! Did you want me to think I went bonkers, hmm?!"

"No," he replied, "And I did it because it felt like the right thing to do."

She quickly asked, "For you or for me?"

"Both," he vaguely answered.

"What gives?" she asked, not satisfied for he gave no damned real answer, "You bugged the hell out of me to acknowledge you and then you just up and ignored me in return?" she loudly grumbled, "You're a shithead just like any living and breathing guy. Get what the hell you wanted and up and go poof." she crossed her arms over her chest with her face puckered in anger then asked, "Why the hell did you bother showing your damned face again?"

"Rose, I understand you're upset," he spoke, tried to be sympathetic and understanding towards her reasonable outburst.

"Bullshit!" she grumbled then her finger accusingly aimed at him, "Big bullshit!" she flung her arms in the air, "I really thought I imagined you and everything else! Then I was confused because how could I imagine any of it. How could I possibly know your name before I read about you?!"

She tossed the quilt off her then stood up from the sofa and shouted, "Even dead guys are insensitive assholes!" she marched out of the living room and loudly demanded, "Just disappear again!"

She headed for the stairs. Up the stairs she stomped, ignored the ache that nagged throughout her body as it had for weeks. Onto the landing and towards her bedroom she continued to stomp. She shoved open her bedroom doors then slammed them closed. Immediately the room temperature dropped.

_**(Author)**_

_**Ya know why I love this particular fan fiction so much... the next chapter is why! :D**_

_**FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA!**_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Rose knew it was him and shouted, "Go away again!" Then she climbed onto the bed.

"I don't want to," he spoke up, stepped forward from the shadow of the entryway, "I was wrong for having kept silent. Perhaps I would've left it like that a year ago but I can't now."

"Oh, shut up!" she yelled then tucked into a tight ball beneath the covers and grumbled, "Wanna throw darts at your head." She grimaced, that recent sickening feeling started to form inside her gut.

"Rose, I have to tell you something." he announced then pleaded, "Please, listen to me."

"What?!" she snapped as she huddled under the covers with her eyes tightly closed.

"I've struggled with this, believe me I have, but I determined I have to tell you." he explained as he stepped to the bed, "I haven't showed myself because I struggled with what I discovered." he was confused by that nagging desire to tell her, "I'm typically, well, was typically a greedy son of a bitch that ignored anything that remotely didn't play in my favor." that statement was unlike him as was what he was about to tell her which went against the nature of what he once was, "This goes against everything I once represented and you have to understand that it has taken me these few weeks to come to this decision."

He stared down at her as she refused to look at him. He felt the words build and that struggle wanted resolve which only meant he had to tell her.

With uncertainty towards himself and what her reaction might be, he confessed his knowledge, "Rose, you're not well."

"Yeah, I'm fucked in the head." she grumbled as she tightened in her huddled ball then sighed, "Beyond fucked."

"No, Rose, your head is fine and you're not insane." he said and slightly shook his head, felt frustrated by that desire to against that immortally instilled grain, "I meant you're not well, physically you're not well. There's something inside you, Rose, I tasted it in your blood. How I managed to taste it, I can't figure it out because of me being this," he lifted his hands and gestured to his spectral self, "And I've never caught anything like this even when I wasn't this."

Her eyes frowned then snapped open. She shifted onto her back then looked up at him through the corners of her eyes, "What are you talking about?" she asked, wasn't sure if she really wanted to hear what he had to say.

"Rose, how did your mother die?" he asked, watched her eyes slightly widen in response his question.

"What's that got to do with anything?" she asked, confused and fearful at the same time.

"Tell me," he urged her, almost pleaded, "Please."

She was reluctant but quickly spat out, "Cancer, Leukemia."

There it was, he instantly knew what he tasted, cancer of the blood. He reluctantly stated, "It's inside you." he knew it sounded harsh but he had to let it be known for it nearly drove him mad burdened with that tragic knowledge. He confessed, "I'm sorry but I couldn't continue without saying a single word."

"That's impossible." she commented and pushed up seated, "You couldn't tell that when you did that. It wasn't real, it was just a dream."

"Was it?" he asked, "How do you explain the bruises on your neck the next morning?"

Her eyes frowned then softened with realization, a horrible realization. Her eyes dropped in response to the realization. That was way too much information, "Why did you tell me this?" she asked but didn't look at him, "Why do you even give a shit about anything like that? What benefit do you get out of telling me that…" She couldn't say it. To say it meant it was real, as real as him.

"There's no benefit," he sincerely stated which was even odd for him to hear, "Like I said, I struggled with this knowledge my entire absence. I normally don't give a damn but for some reason, unbeknownst to me, I guess I came to give a damn."

"So I'm dead," she commented with her shoulders slumped, "They can't do shit for it. I watched my Mom suffer through their so called treatments. She got sicker and sicker."

She forced herself to look up at him with such weight across her furrowed brow. "You should've kept quiet and left me oblivious." she said then shook her head, "You've ruined your bad boy image by being truthful but unfortunately that truth doesn't do me any good."

She wrapped her arms against her abdomen. Her eyes dropped and stared vacantly at the bed. Yeah, she understood there was always a chance but hoped it wouldn't happen. Her eyes closed and in her mind came those images of her mom's horrible struggle throughout the entire process.

The treatments took so much life out of her mother Anne Garrett but the brave woman always managed to smile through the pain, suffering, and knowledge that the battle wouldn't be won. The hair she proudly shared with her mom, once thick and lustrous strawberry blonde thinned and eventually died and fell out. Her mom's face became hallow as her entire body withered from the sickness and the effects of those treatments. A beautiful woman transformed into a shell of her former self but there was always a smile, even at the end.

The last night when reluctant goodbyes were spoken, she remembered such a soft and content smile over her mom's bluish and dry and cracked lips. There was always that smile that haunted her, vivid in her mind. How could someone manage to smile, she always thought with no understanding, smile with knowledge they were going to die?

She turned and lay down against the bed. She curled her aching body into a ball and kept her arms hugged against her abdomen. How could anyone truly respond to such a revelation? How did her mother truly respond when it was known she was going to die?

What was wrong with him? Jerry had asked himself that question hundreds to thousands of times the very moment he knew the fatal tragedy that brewed inside Rose.

His brow furrowed with confusion, defined those distinct lines between his brows. He was confused by his own actions and thoughts. He never gave a second thought about death, his own he had, but never the deaths he caused throughout his lengthy existence. He never felt guilt, regret, or anything that concerned death. Another's death was his survival. Typically he anticipated a death when given by him, a dealer of death of sorts. It was simple really, chose the victim then take their life without a single thought.

In that moment, he reluctantly had the knowledge that someone, that Rose Garrett likely faced death. But her death wasn't to be romanticized or performed by a vampire. There was no euphoria in her future. She had no moment of ecstasy before death. Her death would be callous, slow, and meaningless. Even his death was swifter than what hers would become. The tragedy of true mortality was before him where disease was to be the dealer of death. She was so young, could have a full life ahead of her if not for the cancerous disease that swarmed within her blood cells. Those thoughts were truly unlike the nature he become accustomed to a year prior or the centuries prior to that.

Blood, yes, blood. How he loved blood but her blood would deliver more suffering than he had ever physically inflicted on any victim. Blood was once the giver of his life and blood would be the taker of hers. Yes, you live so long you forget so much. You live for only yourself and others become meaningless. What the hell happened to him and his nature of never giving a damn? Had a year of purgatory truly weakened the typical ruthlessness of the nature of his immortal beast?

Her eyes opened, lined with a swell of tears. The tears weren't necessarily brought by her mortality but by memories of what she witnessed of her mom's painful journey that led to death. She saw what her dad had gone through, so much emotional pain he suffered as he watch his beloved Anne die before his very eyes. Even the effects of their mom's death were visible when Jacob was merely eight, such a young mind to adjust to the reality that their mom was gone.

She heavily sighed. What she felt inside her body, was that what her mom started to feel before the diagnosis?

It was one of those diseases that slowly crept up and bit by bit the signs were there but simply assumed something else. She bared witness to the pain but never understood what it truly felt like. She heard the cries of agony when believed she couldn't hear them. She heard the bouts of vomiting late at night, the treatments seemed more painful than the illness itself.

Her eyes frowned. Did she even want to attempt to go through those treatments?

The treatments seemed as if they only did more harm than good when it came to her mom. Would it be the same for her?

She didn't want the pain, vomiting, or physical changes heightened by those treatments. Her eyes blinked and forced free a trickle of tears.

Was there any more to say? He kept silent in his confused and troubled thoughts but there were also her thoughts too. Her every thought was loud. Every description her thoughts remembered about the death of her mother he heard. Her mind full of nothing but slow death, her mother's and ultimately her own. He never truly thought of images such as her thoughts described. Most images he knew were the body slowly drained into death but he never looked at the bodies after Billy had decapitated them. Those uncountable number of bodies were always snugly wrapped in trash bags and discarded once he had his immortal fill.

Certainly he witnessed throughout the centuries the deaths from plagues and famines but never gave much thought because none of those type of deaths could inflict him. He always, since he could remember, been immune to anything that inflicted mortal man which eventually made him immune to the emotions involved with death and its dealings. He eventually found amusement in the pursuit of deaths of others. Death became a game of sorts when he used his undeniably skillful wiles but in ways he was tentative, never made a bloody mess like that of a starved beast tearing into their prey. His nature made him a neat and clean killer. He hated messes for he had no desire for a huge mess to clean up, well, for Billy to clean up.

Yes, he had always been a meticulous killer and always eased into the kill to savor the moment. Ah, but there was no ease to be had for her, for poor Rose.

He turned from her. His eyes looked to the fireplace mantel and focused on the ivory music box. His head slightly tilted and within his dark eyes came a remembrance. Why the music box? What had been the importance of keeping such a feminine trinket? How long could one go without thinking of their personal tragedies?

He hadn't thought of a particular personal tragedy for centuries until the evening his eyes looked upon the familiar face of Amy Peterson's. Oh, he knew it was only the face that was familiar, perhaps the innocence she had but nothing else. He knew Amy Peterson would never have replaced the mysterious woman in the portrait, yet he wanted something more than a portrait. It was that want that pushed him to do more than kill her, greed from tragedy was how he described it. Mortal tragedy was another descriptive term he came to call it.

He hated being reminded of that mortal tragedy and when he saw Amy, she returned that hated reminder. Perhaps he understood too well about mortal death and the loss it gives. After centuries, a type of emotional hardening occurs and that loss simply becomes buried and buried until seemingly it no longer existed.

His hand reached and attempted to touch the trinket music box but simply his fingers passed through. And within his expressive eyes reflected that mortal tragedy.

Rose had sat up, hadn't heard word from the bearer of bad news which caused her to check if he were still around. She stared at him as he stood facing the mantel and witnessed his attempt to touch the music box.

Yes, she determined right then, there was more to that vampire ghost than he let on which became more evident when he took that moment to share what his vampire sucking skills discovered festering inside her. Maybe he wasn't a total shithead, she mentally noted, wasn't the complete monster that probably depicted his entire existence.

Her lips softly smiled, she decided, always a smile. If that was to be her life, to die at a young age then why not do it with a damned smile on her face just as her mom had. There was no changing the facts and a decision was made. She refused to suffer through ill fated treatments. Perhaps she made that decision two years back when she witnessed her mom's fatal journey. She determined it wasn't going to happen to her, death yes, but not unnecessary suffering.

She cleared her throat and watched him turn his head. She held her smile and repeated in her head, always a smile. "Hey," she spoke up, "Don't beat the shit outta your dead self about telling me." always a smile, "I woulda found out eventually when I was dragged to the hospital and poked with needles." she shrugged and always a smile, "What's done is done. As they say, life's a bitch then you die. Hey, you know that." she gestured to him with a nod and still always a smile, "Your life was a huge and really long bitch then you died." She watched his eyes frown as he turned to the side.

Yep, she held tightly to her sarcasm because what else could keep her always smiling?

"I'm sorry," he said with sincerity, "I'm honestly sorry."

"Don't go getting a damned heart now." she said, slightly shook her head with that always smile, "You're a dead vampire, vampires don't give a shit or they aren't supposed to let on that they do. You go all softy then we'll have a real problem because you'll ruin my impression of ya. You're an asshole. And just because we got all frisky in my head doesn't mean you have to grow a pulse of emotion." she huffed but continued to smile, "Don't ruin this for me by ghostly tiptoeing around me like I'm one of those," she pointed at the dresser where four porcelain dolls stood, "You never once gave me the impression you were a damned pussy so don't go acting like one because that ain't gonna work. I ain't dead yet, you are, but I'm not. So, screw it, this is my life." She tossed her arms and hands in the air.

He wasn't sure what to think which become a more recent problem. He blinked, still not sure how to think. "Well," he finally spoke but not sure what to say, "My advice to you is make the most of your life." Yeah, after centuries you actually run out of ideas to make the most of immortality which explained why he got a kick out of screwing with Charley Brewster.

"Ha," she laughed, "Says the dead guy!"

"You're amazing," he commented then sarcastically stated, "A smart ass no matter the circumstances."

She shrugged then slightly pointed at herself and agreed, "Yep, that's me." she took a deep breath then said, "And, you know what, while I'm still around," her eyes somewhat frowned, strange to speak that way but that was the way it was and again she shrugged, "I'm gonna try to help ya out, Jerry Dandridge."

"Oh, really?" he questioned and continued to frown in response to her oddly chipper attitude, "And how are you going to help me, Rose Garrett?"

"Well, Monday I'm going to get off my ass," she explain, kinda had a plan, what that was, it wasn't totally clear, "And I'm hitting up every damned bookstore and the library. I'm gonna use my intellect and see what it finds concerning your circumstances. Who knows, there might be cure out there in the occult world for the likes of you and your situation."

"I'm highly doubtful," he stated, his circumstances were probably as helpless as hers, "But the thought is appreciated but not necessary."

"I know it's not necessary." she grumbled back at him, "Throw this gonna be dying chick a damned bone. Don't underestimate this," she tapped her finger against her temple, "It works just fine, just seems like it doesn't."

He gave a short laugh and confessed, "I hate admitting this but you're sorta growing on me."

"Oh, hell, I'd better be after that little thingy in my dreams." she chimed, her smile genuine, "That was the only action your ass has seen in," she asked, "What, a year?"

His lips slightly puckered with his eyes softly narrowed for she was right. "So, what now?' he asked, typically her question, "What are your plans until Monday?"

"Hey, you asking me out on a ghostly date?" she quickly asked, "Hey, do vampires ever really go on dates? I mean hiring a hooker for the night ain't a date. Hey, do you know how pathetic that sounds?" she coyly smirked, "Look at ya and you used to hire hookers." She shook her head, found it damned wrong that something that looked like him hired hookers.

She loved the grimace across his face, found it priceless, then commented, "Surely you coulda actually picked up a normal chick with the flash of your eyeballs and gave her at least a final dinner and a movie." then her eyes again gleamed with an odd thought, "Hell, you coulda showed up with a bouquet of roses and box of chocolates that you coulda later on dumped with her like a signature of sorts." her eyes frowned in response to that comment.

Was she really that morbid?

Apparently she was but it was almost humorous.

"Seriously," she spoke up with her idea then again looked at him and there was a glint of amusement in his dark eyes, "I could like pop some of Dad's sleeping pills and be like out in like thirty minutes."

She determined if she had gone insane then so be it. Her life was basically on the verge of becoming nonexistent once that disease took over and did its course through her body. She didn't give a shit anymore.

She looked at him with wide hopeful eyes. The idea of going on a dreamland date with a looker for a dead undead guy sounded damned screwy and interesting at the same time.

"A date," he said, found the concept strange but what better things did he have to do, nothing. He watched her give a quick nod then he made his own little sarcastic quip, "A dream date with your dream guy."

"If you wanna put it that way," she laughed, continued to nod and again accusingly pointed at him, "And, yeah, a simple reminder, Jerry, you're so full of yourself."

He smirked, damn straight he was, "How else would I be?" he more so stated than asked.

"Okay then," she scrambled out from under the blankets then stood up. She felt as if there was serious adrenaline pumped inside her, "Gonna go take them pills then I'm gonna watch Fright Night and see what that shit's all about."

"Oh, you'll definitely be asleep in no time." he commented with his eyes following her as she excitedly left the room.

**_(Author)_**

**_That is why I love this story! I gave Jerry the humanity we all knew was inside him and was glimpsed the movie itself with his thing with Amy! Actually the most impact in the film was that one simple line, "Looks just like her, doesn't she?" and the expression on Sarandon's face.. OMG! Yes, so this particular part is one of the reasons I love this story so much..._**

**_FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA!_**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Rose popped two sleep aides into her mouth and swallowed it down with the help of a Coke. She entered the living room, plopped down on the sofa then stretched out under the quilt. She flipped the channels to find that late night horror show then after several passes she caught the image of blood dripping letters formed into the words Fright Night.

"_Wel-come to Frrr-igh-t Niii-gh-t_!" Jerry's voice sang over the voice over on the television.

She glanced to the other end of the sofa and smirked.

He again casually sat there with an arm rested across the back of the sofa and his legs crossed at the ankles.

"You said that before didn't you?" she asked with amusement.

"Unfortunately I have." he stated as he glared at the television, Peter Vincent filled the screen. Same old tacky backdrops and set props surrounded the old actor who wore his signature vampire killing attire. How he truly hated that man and found him annoying before they actually met. All those pathetic displays of heroism poorly acted and how horribly vampires were portrayed, made him thankful he couldn't vomit for he knew he would.

He turned his eyes from the television and blocked out the sound of Peter Vincent's English accented and overly acted words. He suggested, "You should reconsider subjecting yourself to this type of torment," then added, "Well, and me."

She chuckled through a soft yawn then commented, "Everyone, even a dead guy needs a good laugh at someone else's expense." she rested her head against the sofa arm then looked to the television and asked, "He actually helped kill you, huh?"

"Shocking, I know." he commented then reluctantly looked forward at the television as the cheesy movie was quarter into its poorly designed plot, if there was one. "Who would've thought," he commented, "Peter Vincent the Great Vampire Killer could indeed kill a vampire." then confessed, "Sure in the hell I didn't."

Again she yawned, "Must've been a huge kick in your vampire balls being killed by an old guy and a teenager." she commented then again yawned, the pills started to take effect.

She sleepily giggled, saw the so called vampire enter the scene dressed in the typical black ensemble with a frilly white shirt and slicked back hair. She asked, "Ain't like looking in a mirror, is it?" She again giggled.

"If I looked like that I would've been glad not having a reflection." he commented then smirked, listened to her sleepy giggles.

"Yeah," she again yawned, felt her eyes grow heavy, then commented , "He ain't no Jerry Dandridge."

His smirk shifted into a smile, heard her compliment. His eyes looked to her.

Her eyes started to flutter and lose focus on the television.

_Yes, escape to your dreams, Rose_, his mind spoke, _in your dreams, Rose, you can't be touched by any damned disease but__touched by me, yes._

His eyes closed and focused, waited for the moment those pills completely took her beneath that heavy shroud of sleep. Her dreams were his escape as well and he gladly accepted the invitation to join her.

And into her dream he manifested.

Once again it was that club scenario but not entirely created by him but her as well.

Yes, it was a part of his memories, yet, of course it was her influence with the damned music. He frowned, had a sense he somehow started to repeat that one particular evening in one way or another. It was all too real, his eyes shifted and looked around the crowded club as he stood where he had over a year ago. He glanced down at himself. He damn well was dressed the same clothes. He shook his head, somewhat reluctant for that trip down memory lane. But his true dilemma was, where was Rose in all that clubber chaos?

Rose remembered those tidbits of information Jerry Dandridge had shared about his pursuit of the little darling Amy Peterson inside Club Radio. Those tidbits she brought into her dream and gave it a whole new life, tidbits of her.

She was amongst those disco freaks that were in that previous club scenario. Again she was dressed in her own fashion statement mixed with that heavy metal glam and something she found in the basement and kept. She wore someone's snazzy grayish blue blazer with the sleeves folded to expose her forearms and beneath was a midriff cropped Quiet Riot band tee which also was the current choice of music.

Her fishnet gloved fists pumped to the beat of Mama We're All Crazy Now. Her strawberry blonde hair piled atop the crown of her head in a bundle of slightly ratted and crimped waves. On her stomping feet were black low heels with white socks folded under trimmed in black lace. Her legs kicked up at the knees while she pounded her heels against the floor. Her legs steadily worked beneath the flow of a thin black knit cotton skirt with numerous slits that exposed each leg with each kick.

She loved to dance, loved music, and it was perfect for that escape that was her dream.

That was worse than déjà vu as he moved into the dancing crowd, each individual seemed so out of sync to the chosen music. His eyes continued to frown against the overwhelming familiarities as they scanned passed the moving bodies. "Alright, Rose," he said with a whisper, "Where are you?" He knew all that was needed was to look for the only heavy metal head banging individual since everyone else was stuck in a more disco groove.

Damn, he wouldn't really consider that an escape. A damned reminder of his last night as a physical being, that's what it was.

The music changed and he recognized the song immediately, a particular song that seemed stuck in her thoughts the moment she finally looked at him.

His eyes continued to search and then there she was as predicted.

She bounced around with her fists in the air and obviously content as she thrashed about to the hard rock melody.

His eyes frowned. Wait, he thought, he knew that blazer all too well. Ah, he nodded, the exact blazer he wore during drinks with Charley Brewster's easily charmed mother and the exact blazer worn during his attempt on Charley's life. That reminded him, wished he just threw the little shit out the window instead of through the closet doors.

She opened her eyes then smiled the moment she saw that her ghost had finally spotted her. She knew she wasn't hard to spot since she was the only talented dancer in that dreamed joint.

She waved at him as he gracefully moved his way through the passing bodies. That was her ideal date night with heavy metal music, great clothes, and a smoking hot dead guy as a date. She continued to smile as he stepped in front of her and crossed his arms over his chest. "What's the matter?" she shouted over the music, "Jealous because I make this jacket look good?!" She laughed as she kept pace with the music, hadn't missed a damned beat once.

Over the music, she loudly commented, "Alright, you mentioned you danced with the one who shall remain nameless."

"What of it?" he asked over the music.

"Well, do you have moves or not?" she laughed then did a spin on those low heels as she swung her arms.

"Not to this music." he stated as he shook his head in refusal. He noted, she was so hyper as she bounced around wearing his damned blazer.

But he had moves and she could go ask Amy Peterson about that fact though likely that little sweetheart wouldn't admit having enjoyed herself. Yes, she enjoyed herself and from what he remembered, she enjoyed it immensely the moment he guided her virginal body into sexual moves not even Charley Brewster was able to provoke.

"Well, I'll give you permission to change the tunes but" she again laughed and pointed at him accusingly, "If I fall into a coma of boredom it's entirely your damned fault!" she watched his lips form that attractive smirk then she challenged, "Gimme what ya got, vampire Jerry Dandridge! You sure showed me how ya use your hands," she continued to laugh, "Show me some how the rest of ya moves."

"Challenge accepted," he stated with a cunning smirk then uncrossed his arms as the loud heavy metal slowly died beneath another emerging melody.

"Yippy!" she shouted and excitedly clapped her hands but her excitement momentarily faded when she heard his choice of music begin to rise, Good Man In a Bad Time _(play song from FN Soundtrack_). "Not this again!" she loudly stated then planted her hands on her hips, "Let me guess, this," she lifted her hand with her finger pointed in the air, "This you danced with what's her name, didn't ya?"

"Hey, you chose this setting, I didn't." he commented, "Familiar setting, familiar attire, and why not familiar music, hmm?"

"Well, at least it ain't sappy!" she grinned then urged, "Alright, whatchya waiting for, Jerry, use the same moves if that's all you got."

"Oh, that's not all I got," he firmly stated with a slow shake of his head, "I refuse to use the same moves on you." He pointed at her then turned his hand and coiled his finger, summon her to him.

"Yay!" she shouted then literally jumped forward in front of him, "Hey, everyone!" she shouted out to the dreamed clubbers, "I'm gonna dance with a dead vampire!" she looked at him and wrinkled her nose then shook her head and stated, "I don't think the disco freaks heard me."

He rolled his eyes.

Time to meet the challenge.

Swiftly he reached then brought his arms around her waist and gathered her against him. Damn, it's been a while but he hadn't lost one bit of his moves.

He moved both hands down against the small of her back with his eyes burned into hers then he eased into that familiar sexual rhythm. His hands moved forward over her hips, felt the quality material of his blazer and chimed in thought, damn he had undoubted fashion sense and taste.

His hands worked upward beneath the blazer then gripped the lapel and slowly guided the blazer back over her shoulders, one exposed by the widened cut collar of the band tee.

She held a smirk as she watched his stunning expression closely.

His hands guided the blazer down the length of her arms followed by the blazer dropping to the floor. His fingers wrapped around her wrists then slowly he guided her arms around his neck. He grazed his fingertips down the length of her bare arms and returned his hands down against her back. Aiming his fingers down, he pressed his hands firmly as they slid passed the small of her back then moved over the shape of her youthful rear. With a nudge forward she was firm against him and he raised the sexuality of his motions.

Typically she was your bouncing around madly rocker chick when it came to dancing. She never remotely experienced what would become known as dirty dancing (_Jerry was doing it way before Dirty Dancing's Johnny_). Yet, she appreciated such suggestive dancing and silently admitted that he did have some serious moves in his own unique cunningly sexual way. No, she didn't mind at all where his hands had roamed. Definitely she didn't mind the manner his body moved against hers which heightened the smirk over her lips. She also had no problem with the way his eyes focused with hers and the pure sexuality that radiated.

It would likely be the only time in her life to have that experience though it was sadly only in her dream, not in reality where she felt it should be. There would be no prom to dance with a prom date. That ghostly entity was now her only source of having any of those experiences. And, as tragic as it should seem, she was at ease with it.

Her lips formed a soft smile, always a smile.

The song faded and just for him she urged another to begin which was a song she knew that was definitely his taste. (_Recommend to go to You Tuber, find the Come to Me cover done by The Stranger Side or Dana Thursday_) She watched his eyes slightly frown as that familiar song begun to rise. She softly smiled. "Yeah, you and your damned music grew on me." she commented and one by one she made those disco freaks vanish. She tightened her arms around his neck and leaned against him. She slightly rose on her tiptoes, brushed the side of her face against his then whispered, "Mood music."

His eyes held their frown. It wasn't her softened demeanor that confused him, it was his. He listened to the soft melody, the one that was a reproduction of the music box's. That particular melody had become an almost soundtrack to his life, not only represented the woman in that portrait but his life and existence as well. Oddly, it seemed, the melody began a whole other meaning and new representation for him. It changed the first evening he managed to open the music box after Rose had placed it atop the mantel.

Over his face developed a somber expression. His eyes seemed frozen as were the etched lines between his furrowed brow. There was definitely something unlikely that happened inside him. Had death stripped him of his protective and unemotional walls?

What death had left behind didn't seem him at all, not in comparison to the vampire he was in life. Nothing about him seemed the same which became obvious the very moment he noticed the new resident in his home. Yes, he desperately clung to his evil son of a bitch persona but gradually that was whittled down until it left him seemingly emotionally bared. There were no real answers to any of it. Nothing could answer why it just happened to be Rose to feel his presence when others who dared to step foot in that house hadn't or couldn't. Why Rose? Was it perhaps that looming death that opened her to his presence?

No answers, there were no real damned answers to any of it!

"Okay, this is depressing!" she suddenly chimed, "Kinda more of a mood killer than enhancer."

She brought her arms back, wanted more of a boost than a downer and commented, "Sorry, no offense to your tunes." She stepped back and couldn't help but notice the troubled expression about his face and across his eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked.

His eyes finally looked at her with the expression unchanged.

She asked, "Something wrong?"

He finally blinked then slowly shook his head.

"You already died," she spoke up then commented, "You shouldn't be the one looking as if you're gonna die."

She jumped back with a little hop and shouted, "Let's ditch this dive!" She spun around and around and around, lifted her arms out with her head tilted back. Her eyes focused high above, brilliant stars sparked to life almost one by one dotting a midnight sky. She smiled and smelled the development of that distinct aroma of the salty ocean air that was crisp and fresh within a flowing icy breeze that came off the developed nighttime waters. An orange glow of a bonfire illuminated over her as her bare feet spun and shifted against the chilled sand.

She eased her spin, the hem of a simple knee length dress lowered then brushed against her legs and lightly tossed in the ocean breeze.

_**(Author)**_

_**I did some song recommendations. I truly hope you had gone to tuber and looked up the Come To Me cover. That song I would officially dub as one of two main songs for this particular story. A modernized but brilliant take on Brad Feidel's original song with lyrics! This particular part is a shout out to a definite Fright Night fan Dana Thursday who is a friend on my FB and a wonderful singer and musician! In fact, I told him that I only listen to that song during this part of this story! **_

_**FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA! **_


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

"Listen," Rose spoke up as the faint rise of an amazing electric guitar echoed off the base of the surrounding cliffs, "It's one my all time favorite song beginnings!" She started to hum with the haunting melody Screaming In the Night performed by Krokus.

The vocals were comparable to that of the raspy singer of AC/DC but with higher reaching and harmoniously beautiful vocals of Marc Storace. Such a mournful song, she thought, but so powerful with its vengeful meaning, avenging a tragic death of an undying love. Why did she love such tragic songs?

Perhaps it was easier to bond with such disheartening lyrics.

His eyes watched her closely as she seemed consumed by, yes, a very powerful ballad. Yes, he noticed the pattern of her loved music that were so many songs that shared the same tragic theme. Songs that contained so much mournful undertones and she loved them with their regret, guilt, or loss by death. Yet, she danced to that heavy metal sadness with a soft smile. He lightly closed his eyes, heard the echoing sounds of the electric guitars sing harmoniously with high mournful cries, similar to that of the electric violins within his music.

His eyes drifted open, watched her gently come to an end to her fire illuminated dance. She quite possibly was the most beautiful image he had ever seen. She seemed to glow within that orange illumination. Her strawberry blonde hair bolder with deepened red tones and an almost silken sheen as it gently flowed within the breeze. She mirrored no image of someone who would receive death, her soft smile was deceptive to that tragic fact.

She was so full of life though death brewed inside her and prepared to steal that life. There was so much light in her blue eyes and throughout the features of her face but it was a light he knew would eventually dim and go out completely. What he wouldn't give to not be just a damned ghost, would've personally make certain her light would never go out. He felt actual anger knowing her fate. What he wouldn't give to have the opportunity to give her everlasting life.

As her thoughts once spoken, why hadn't she come before his death, why now?

He stepped forward, felt beneath the soles of his bare feet against the chilly sand. His hands reached then swiftly grabbed the sides of her face, she startled and gasped. He brought his lips against hers, obviously took her by surprise. He wished that dreamed immortal intimate kiss would have infected her, brought her one death then replaced it with eternal life.

He deepened his kiss, felt her finally respond after the surprise wore off. In a swift movement he brought her down against the sand before the heat of the bonfire. He felt that burning life inside her. He felt the passion but knew when the disease took its complete effect it would suck away that passion.

Hell, he once thrived to suck. Suck 'em dry and toss 'em aside like trash, that once was his immortal life's motto. Damn, did that determine he once was no better than a life sucking cancerous blood disease?

He had a revelation that typically he would never have had, not until recent. Amazing what being truly dead for a year had transpired that not even a thousand years of life had.

What the hell had come over him?

She was somewhat surprised my his abrupt and aggressive approach which was far more aggressive than the previous. But she didn't think too ill of it. She determined it was only natural, he being a true control freak seemed more understandable and suitable for what he really was. She did state she wanted him to continue with his natural ways.

Whoa, something surely flipped his switch and flipped it hard.

She barely caught a breath in attempt to keep up. She had a hard time to keep up with the bases being scrambled. First there was a graze of third base then he jumped over second and hit first base over and over and took a jump backwards and slid into second but not once did he head for a home run. The entire time he swung the bat and struck the ball out of the park.

Really, was she thinking of baseball sex metaphors when he was no damned teenaged guy?!

"Yes, my sentiments exactly." he agreed with her thoughts, stopped and looked down at her, watched her eyes snap open with surprise. He then commented, "How creative you are, you surely could come up with better metaphors concerning me."

"Wait a damned minute," she somewhat mumbled then asked with surprise, "You've been reading my thoughts all this damned time?"

"Did you think it just upped and vanished?" he asked with a curious tilt of his head.

"Um," she stammered and couldn't come up with any excuses why she assumed his minding reading ghostly skills weren't there. She shrugged, had nothing.

He waited but nothing. His eyes frowned then shifted and he asked, "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" she asked, looked around.

"Hmm, nothing," he commented, "For moment there was nothing but peaceful silence."

Her eyes narrowed up at him. "Oh, you shithead," she grumbled with a grin then shoved her hands against his chest, "Get off me."

She pushed the heels of her feet into the sand and scooted back. She rose up onto her and stated, "You were stealing bases to damned quickly anyways." She continued to brush the sand off her backside as she giggled at her lame metaphor. She commented, "We've got all night."

He looked up at her with a smirk and determined she looked lovely with blushed cheeks. "Yes, but we could have a lot of fun all night as well." he commented with a sly lift of his brows then reached his hand to her, "Fun on repeat just like that song that's always in your head when you look at me."

Her mouth subtly gaped in response to his knowledge, "Oh, that's not fair," she whined, "You know what I'm thinking all the damned time when I haven't a clue what's going on in that ghost brain of yours." She crossed her arms over her chest.

Her mouth went to spout out another word but some odd light struck her in eyes, caused her to wince. Her head darted to the right and looked into an actual beam of a flashlight.

"Hey, what ya doing out here?" a voice asked from behind the beam of the flashlight which remained aimed on Rose's face.

Rose quickly looked down at Jerry and asked, "Did you?" She watched him slowly shake his head.

Jerry raised up on his feet while focused passed the bonfire.

Rose lifted her hand to block out the flashlight.

"What ya two doing out here?" the voice again asked.

She didn't know what to say or understand what was happening.

"Hello, did ya hear me?" the voice asked.

She recognized the accent, a typical north eastern accent, "Ah," she mumbled, "I, ah…" She looked to Jerry for answers.

Jerry looked just as confused as Rose.

Rose quickly asked Jerry, "What's going on?"

"I'm asking ya the same thing, young lady." the man with the flashlight stated, "This here is a private beach and yar trespassing."

Rose lifted her arm and pointed at Jerry, quickly she asked, "You see him?" The real question she had. What the hell was going on?

Wait. Rose's brain scrambled, the guy saw her too. Wait. She tired grasp what was happening. Her mind raced, it was a dream and neither one of them brought the guy into the dream.

"Yeah, I see him and I see ya too, missy." the man stated then quickly aimed the flashlight at Jerry, "Ya and yar friend need to vacate before I call the cops." The flashlight beam shifted back to Rose's face.

Jerry tried not to fathom the idea but it was too tempting. His lips formed into that all too familiar crooked grin as his eyes focused on the fire illuminated tubby fellow holding the flashlight. He smelled it, the scent mingled in the salty air. He smelled that all too familiar scent that only true living blood emulated. The temptation to test such an unlikely concept grew. He felt the distinct growth of his fangs brush the inside of his lips.

The man brought the flashlight back to Jerry's face. He gasped, witnessed Jerry's eyes glow against the bright light. "What the hell," he stammered.

Rose looked to Jerry, his focus was directed on the man. It couldn't be possible, she tried to tell herself. She saw the consuming red in his wide eyes and the sneer form over his lips. Her breathes grew heavy and heart pounded. He couldn't possibly do it, she desperately tried to convince herself, it was all in her head, not real.

Her eyes frowned and lowered with scrambled thoughts. She woke that morning with a bruise on her neck, not punctures, but an ominous bruise exactly where he had bitten. Her eyes lifted then flinched, Jerry wasn't there.

She suddenly startled, heard the man let out a loud squeal. Her wide eyes focused as the flashlight beam darted erratically from side to side over the height of the bonfire's flames. Strange muffled gurgles sounded over the gentle crashing of the waves.

It wasn't happening, she denied in her head, he couldn't or could he?

She stumbled backwards, heard a muted thud sound from the other side of the bonfire then her eyes watched the flashlight beam shine outward toward the shore. Her wide eyes focused on that beam of light as her mind raced in desperation to convince her it was a dream or had it truly become an actual nightmare.

"I gotta wake up," she mumbled through a shaky breath.

Her eyes finally blinked the moment the flashlight beam was briefly blocked then her eyes focused on Jerry's bare feet as they pressed down into the sand and moved in her direction. She repeated with a mumbled whisper, "I gotta wake up."

Her eyes grew wider and slowly shifted upward as he continued towards her. She again startled with a stumbled backwards step, her eyes caught sight of an actual trickle of blood as it glistened at the corner of his satisfied smirk.

"You are beyond gifted, Rose." Jerry stated, the rush of the kill rekindled.

Her eyes widely focused on that crimson trickle, "I gotta…" her voice was barely audible as she slowly nodded, "Yeah…wake…wake up." She felt panic begin to set in.

"You said you wanted to help me," he commented then lifted his hand. He wiped the pad of his thumb up the trickle of blood then stated in question, "Well, the help was stumbled upon, wasn't it?" He sucked the blood clean from his thumb.

Then he finally took notice of her fearful expression and stated, "I had to take the chance, Rose, and I'm damned glad I did." he grinned then commented, "That little fat man sure hit the spot." Oh, he felt that old spark just burst into a full on flame the moment he tore into the side of the man's stubby neck and tasted the flows of heated blood.

"You're a damned miracle, Rose." he stated then commented, "You're my miracle and I refuse to let my miracle go." then he firmly confessed, "I have a suspicion that things might just work out for me now that I have you."

Oh, all those psychotic ballads had come back to bite her in the ass. All those morbid romantic love ballads mocked her with the depths of their real meanings.

He stepped forward.

She again startled then stumbled backwards and lost her balance against the thick sand. She dropped down onto her rear and blankly stared forward. Wait, she quickly thought, she wouldn't be around too long because eventually that disease would take its course and she'd be out of commission.

"Oh, don't you worry about that." he commented on her thoughts.

Her eyes blinked, his legs were directly into front of her.

"If we managed to solve one problem then I'm positive we'll find the solution to yours." he said then frowned and asked, "Well, it's mine as well, wouldn't you agree?" then he confidently stated, "Yes, we'll solve our problem together."

She squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted out of there, away from the evidence of the unbelievable. She felt the breeze die, the salty aroma disappeared, and the sound of the waves faded.

**(Author)**

**Okay the next chapter coming up. Yeah, I extended the intimacy more. Basically the first time Jerry and Rose hooked up, the only thing that was penetrated was her neck with his fangs.. other means of intimacy were performed... So, next chapter the intimacy is upped a notch and then some. Which means... yeah... that... :D**

**FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA!**


	15. Chapter 15 Extended Intimacy!

**Chapter Fifteen- Extended Intimacy!**

Rose's eyes slowly opened and looked forward into the dancing flames of the fireplace. She slowly swallowed, unable to pry her eyes from the flames.

He apologized, "I'm sorry if that frightened you."

Her head darted to her left and there he was seated beside her before the fireplace.

His lips softened from their signature smirk. He honestly had no enjoyment seeing the fear in her eyes, fear of him. "Rose, you knew what I was." he stated a fact, "Knowing what I was you showed no fear of me that beautiful night and permitted me to give you that intimate kiss. Please, don't fear me. Don't be afraid of me." he softly pleaded with his eyes, "It pains me to see you fear me. I will never harm you." He lifted his hand then reached to touch the side of her face but she drew back. Damn that fear, he grumbled in thought.

"Did you really kill him?" she asked with a shaky voice.

"Yes, I suppose," he stated with a slight frown, "It's not definite the extent of what I had done. He either stays dead or wakes undead. It was a risk I had to take to find out if it were possible for me to feed."

"How was that real?" she again questioned because the once unreal gradually became real, "How was that possible? It's all just a dream, ain't it?"

"You're gifted, Rose, very gifted." he commented in attempt to answer her questions, "I'm not positive if we were completely and physically there. I understand as much of this as you do. But I'm not questioning a damned thing. Anything is possible, you should know that."

"I don't know what's real and what's not anymore." she confessed her distraught confusion, "I'm scared shitless right now and I don't have a damned clue how to make that go away." she looked forward into the flames and confessed more, "I was fine with everything else but this is a whole other opened can of shit. I want to wake up."

"Rose," he again reached and brushed his fingertips along the length of her hair that draped over her shoulder, "Rose, please set aside what you saw. I only did what I had to do. I didn't just do it for me." his eyes softened more as they studied the profile of her confused expression, "I did it for you as well."

Her head darted and she looked to him with shock and confusion in her eyes.

His lips formed a gentle smile, "I don't want you to have to suffer through that disease," he truthfully stated his belief of her survival, his own as well, "And I am now hopeful there's a way to stop you from having to go through it." he confessed his new array of unlikely thoughts, "You don't deserve what's been dealt to you. It angers me to know what you'll go through." his brow tensed with that confessed anger, "I want to find a way to make sure that doesn't happen."

Her eyes continued to tense their confused frown, "What are you saying?" she asked, yet unsure if she wanted to hear the answer.

He lifted his hand again and gently traced his fingertips along the side of her face. His eyes were soft as they studied her beautiful face that he believed deserved to be forever. "I find a way out of my hell and back into the world," he began to explain his determined desire, "I want to make you immortal and save you from having to suffer as your mother had." he read the confusion deeply embedded within her blue eyes, "I _will_ find my way back and when I do you'll _never _have to worry about disease, illness, or dying ever again."

"That's not possible and you know that." she stated with some of the fear subsided, "You're grasping at some seriously unattainable straws. I'll likely be dead before you figure anything out, if there is anything to figure out."

His eyes narrowed in response to her blatant acceptance of death. "Don't say that." he said with an angered tone then reminded her, "I'm possible and what I just did was possible," his eyes expressed the intensity of his determination, "So in my opinion there is much more that's possible. You even said you were going to try to find me a way out of this. We might have found the beginning to that way out, Rose."

"Yeah, find _you_ a way out." she stated and found his anger surprising, "I never said anything about me."

"Well, I am," he firmly stated with a slight sneer across his top lip, "I find a way and yours is found as well."

She took a deep breath then looked into his eyes, that determination nearly glowed the intense red behind the dark brown. "You're supposed to be an evil son of a bitch." she stated then again frowned with a grin, "Well, you just did off some poor guy which was pretty evil but," she again focused on him, "Now you're making some serious statements that lessen that evil. Do you really want to be known as the half and half vampire, half evil and half good? It's kinda, well, a screwy concept."

"I don't give a damn," he stated then smirked, "I believe I'll have plenty time to make up for my good ways."

"Really," she sighed, "I don't think I'm really vampire material because I have excellent taste in music and, from what I've learned, vampires have seriously lousy taste when it comes to music." Her fear subsided further as she watched that familiar scowl across his eyes formed in response to her insult towards his music.

Hearing her sarcasm again set him more at ease and provoked his own sarcasm,"Oh and I thought my music had grown on you."

"I lied, I was trying to be nice." she chimed then smirked, "Your music really sucks the big one. Your music sucks my music's hard rocking dick."

His eyes briefly closed while his lips softly puckered. "You're damned annoying," he commented and opened his eyes, saw her smirk broaden, "Just like your so called music."

"Oh you love my music and just won't admit it." she provoked then shifted the subject, "What was it like doing what you did?" She had developed an actual morbid curiosity since death was in her future.

"It was an amazing rush." he replied with blatant honesty, "There is nothing more exhilarating than that first taste. The instant gush of blood is always filled with the most powerful flavor."

"Sounds disgusting," she commented then curiously asked, "Was that how it was when you, well, got your fangs in me?"

"No," he leaned forward, "That was pure pleasure." his expression turned sly and curiously he asked, "Was it pleasurable for you?"

Her eyes studied his. Why did his eyes have to be so damned amazing?

"It hurt like a bitch," she crudely stated then grinned. Yeah, she reminisced, it hurt but not for long and oddly became pleasurable when the initial pain faded. Also, the very moment his fangs penetrated, the combination of the instant strike of pain seemed to intensify the other unbelievable pleasure he achieved to give her.

He grinned, read her thoughts loud and clear then suggested, "Instead of thinking it why don't you just come out and say it." he added, "I'd prefer to hear your thoughts than read them."

"Then quit reading my damned thoughts." she swiftly countered.

"Fine, I will." he stated and like a switch he turned off that particular ability, "Now you tell me your thoughts."

She grinned mischievously, "I'm thinking you want to hear me say things so you can grow your big head even bigger." she coyly stated and continued her sarcasm, "I'm thinking that Jerry Dandridge is too damned conceded." she loved when his lips softly puckered as his eyes narrowed, "Oh, and I'm thinking that you're too damned good looking for your own good. Oh, yeah," she paused and lifted her hand with her index erect then aimed it at him, "And I'm also thinking it must've been a tight squeeze to get you and your giant ego into my dreams. One of these times you're gonna get stuck, really stuck in that door then we'll both be screwed."

He immediately urged, "Okay you can stop telling me what you're thinking."

"Hey, I was just doing what you wanted." she reminded him with a shrug.

"Well, how about this," he cleared his throat, "We just do what I'm thinking which is much more productive."

Her eyes frowned with suspicion then she asked, "Oh and what might that be, huh?"

He leaned closer with his eyes focused with hers then answered, "I'm thinking you should just shut your big mouth so I can get started."

Her head turned with suspicion with her eyes frowned then she coyly asked, "Get started with what?"

"Oh you know damn well what." he stated, kept his eyes slightly narrowed.

"I don't know," she leaned closer to him, "I don't have your ghostly vampire mind reading skills."

"Just shut the hell up." he snipped, rolled his eyes with a slight shake of his head.

With a swift dart of his hand, he grabbed her by the back of the neck then pulled her to him and brought her lips against his. He determined that was the best way to silence her smart ass mouth shut.

It was strange kissing lips that had just sucked the blood out of some poor sap. She could actually taste remnants of the blood on his lips. Yes, her first reaction to what she witnessed was fear but for some odd reason that fear faded and was replaced with more infatuation towards the spirit that seemingly became more and more real with each entrance into her dreams. Her dreams weren't really dreams anymore for they oddly transformed into a type of portal that gave him an actual physical presence.

It was somewhat hard for her to conceive his idea to prevent her from a cancerous death. Did she truly believe he could find an opening back into the world of the living? Could she really fathom being immortal and living centuries as he had?

Perhaps it was easier to fathom the idea of death than immortality since she was more familiar with death. And that night, in her supposed dream she bared witnessed to whole other type of death. It was a swift death where there was barely a peep from the receiver of death. And she saw the ghost for who he truly was, what he had been, a smooth and calculated killer, and that oddly fascinated her after the shock wore off. There were very vivid differences she had saw of her spectral vampire. He obviously would always have the desire for the kill but there was also something human inside him.

And there were many just as vivid differences inside her as well. She strangely became comforted by his presence. He, in life, represented death, so perhaps that was why she felt so comforted by him, especially now that she knew death would come for her. If she decided if she could, she would remain asleep until death came, spend the rest of her short life in his presence.

Laid back against the floor she peered up into his lovely and dark eyes. The eyes of death she called them.

How many have looked into those eyes before he gave them death?

There had to have been thousands upon thousands that his eyes were the last things they saw. She predicted many were just as awed by his eyes as she was. She determined right then there wouldn't be anything wrong if those eyes of death were the last she saw.

His lips again pressed against hers and, yes, lips that had taken part in so many deaths. She was kissing death and he was kissing her. She tasted death in the form of that lingering blood stained about his lips. And passed those lips were the fangs, the true delivers of death that punctured the flesh and into the vein then swiftly devoured the life giving blood.

Yes, she just might have more than just a crush on death, more than morbid fascination. Quite possibly, most likely, she was falling really hard for death with the name Jerry Dandridge.

Her hands moved to the sides of his face, felt the slight warming effects from the blood he consumed, so real. She urged him to lift from the kiss. Her eyes again looked into the most beautiful eyes of death. A decision was made.

He studied the expression within her eyes which was somewhat difficult to read and refused to again read her thoughts. "What is it?" he finally asked, curious about the reasons behind such an expression.

"Well, I'm not sure how to, um," she softly spoke, uncertain how to approach him then took a breath and made an attempt, "Well, with the uncertainty about what's gonna or not gonna happen." she watched his eyes frown, "I don't know what's gonna happen, well, I do." her eyes awkwardly shifted from looking into his, "I'm...well, you know what's gonna happen eventually."

Yes, he understood what she meant and despised the fact that, in an uncertain time, she would succumb to death. Yet, he hoped it would be him who brought her death not what loomed inside her. The death he would bring, a death where she would again be reborn and that death inside her would be denied succession.

"Sorry," she apologized, again looked up into his eyes, "It's the damned truth and," she again took a breath and tried again, "Well, I know this is supposed to just a dream but things seemed to have become more real."

"Yes," he agreed then watched her oddly smile.

She nodded then stated, "Since we really don't know if you'll get your butt back to the world of the living," she took another nervous breath, "Well, um, even if its just in my head, I wanna, well," she frowned then shook her head followed by a nervous laugh then she forced herself to continue, "You sorta impressed me that night."

His eyes continued to frown then it dawned on him what she possibly tried to ask or suggest. His frown faded as his brows lifted with intrigue. He smiled with that signature slant then eyed her suspiciously and asked, "What are you getting at?" He knew the answer but wanted her to come out and say it.

"You know," she said and again shifted her eyes away from his.

"Maybe I do," he somewhat confessed, "Tell me."

She forced herself to again look up into his suspicious eyes then tried to explain, "I've never, well, went beyond then some."

"Yes, I know that." he confessed, watched her eyes question him then he asked, "You don't think that as a vampire I wouldn't know a virgin?" he slightly smirked, "I'm a vampire, I can literally smell a virgin from miles away."

"Ha," she sarcastically huffed.

"Also, don't forget, I've had a taste of your blood." he explained, "You're blood is the blood of virgin."

"Ha, no shit." she snipped with her face somewhat puckered then again huffed, "Fine, I'm a damned virgin, we know that."

He responded with a short laugh then his expression softened as did his smile. His left hand rested against the side of her face. He cut her a break, knew her difficulty to make such an intimate request, then said, "I know what you're trying to say."

She asked, "You do?"

He nodded then stated, "Say no more."

"Okay," she slightly nodded in agreement then smiled.

No more was said, verbally.

He brought his lips against hers, very gently.

Many legends proclaimed that vampires were incapable of the intimacy mortals had. Those legends were misleading and wrong. Vampires were capable of that particular intimacy, yet, they rarely partake for their true intimacy came through that most intimate of kisses.

For him, it had been perhaps over a century that he could remember ever having committed that intimate act mortals took for granted and wasted it with random people or empty relationships. But, he never forgot the act and understood the importance it had for her. He perceived her request as an honor. Though he hated the thought, that moment in her mind would possibly be the only opportunity for her to experience such an intimate act.

Very gently he eased the depth of their kiss, felt the slight nervous tremble as her lips kissed his in return. In fact, her entire body trembled. Though they had been intimate in another manner, the intimacy she was about to experience was more than anything she had ever known or experienced. He wanted to ease her forward, guide her into the direction she wanted to be led. Patience was needed which he knew in her past she never received from fumbling idiot boys. So, he gave patience, gentleness, and all of his perfectionist expertise.

His left hand lightly grazed down, his fingertips brushed along the strained slope of her neck, over her smooth collarbone, then to the first button of her sundress. One by one he undid the buttons as he contently continued to gradually heighten the passion of their kiss.

The final button undone, his hand slid within the open bodice then gently molded over her heaving breast. He felt and heard her sigh in response to his touch. He felt the heat begin to burn throughout her kissing lips and felt the rising heat against the flesh of his gently kneading hand. Honestly, he somewhat forgot the amazing heat that flushed over mortal flesh within such an intimate process. But gladly he indulged for he knew that heat was caused in response to his expert actions.

Yes, she experienced second base but those hands in the past remotely couldn't compare to his. She was impressed with him before but more so with the manner he took his time. She appreciated how patiently he worked her body bit by bit. She managed to push herself and lifted her arm, brought her left hand against the thick ebony at the back of his head which instantly heightened their kiss. She simply allowed herself to again be consumed by him.

It made no difference to her any more that he was a spectral immortal creature. She no longer cared what crimes he had committed throughout his centuries of life and recently done in that world that had become the combination of dream and reality. Her life at some point, in perhaps months, would come to an end and so, she determined there was no need to truly think. She would follow what had entered her heart because in time, there would be nothing inside to follow.

Her hand lifted off the floor then reached down and gripped the hem of his sweater. Her hand left his hair as his slipped from beneath her bodice. The sweater was removed by both their actions. Again their lips met with a heightened passion.

He indulged in the feel of her heated hands move against the sides of his neck then they slid down against his bare chest. He buried his lips deeper against hers, felt the action of her hands as they undid his belt. Yes, she was more experienced, knew some of the steps that led into the right direction. Yes, he wasn't the first she's touched nor was he the first to have touched her but he would be the first to move her beyond where she had never gone.

His left hand grazed down over her breast then moved against her hip, his fingers gathered the hem of her dress, gradually exposed her thigh. His hand tucked beneath the gathered hem, delivered his hand firmly gripping her youthful rear which guided her to eagerly respond with a heavy hum followed her home exploration of him with her hands. He couldn't hold back from his sounding his own hum, approved of her precise actions. Then in return he slid his hand from her rear then delivered it firmly between her tensed thighs and he heard and felt her loudly gasp.

His lips curved into a soft grin. His eyes opened and looked into hers. Again he provoked her to gasp. How he enjoyed the breath of that gasp felt against his lips and the breathy sound. He admired the stunning expression of her face which was in honor of his actions, nothing but lovely pleasure etched throughout the expression of her eyes and features. He forgotten the visual of such expressions. In his past, each time he gave that pleasure filled pain he never witnessed the expression but before his eyes was a different expression which lacked the pain and was completely designed by pleasure.

She felt his pleasurable actions cease. Her eyes held his, shifted with his every motion. She felt her heated and heavy breaths reflect against his lips as they grazed against hers. He only lifted slightly, her eyes held their focus. Her chest heaved and heart raced. Her hands were gathered by his, his fingers entwined with hers, then they were brought down against the fur rug. Again his lips grazed hers as her blue eyes were hypnotized by the rich browns within his.

That requested moment came, his body gently motioned.

Her eyes flinched. She gasped with a soft trembled strain, the pain subtle.

Miraculous, he praised in thought, the truthful expression of his succession to be her rightful first. Gently, he again motioned, prompted her to gasp louder filled with a trembled whine. So much he had forgotten from his mortal life and the beginning of his immortal existence. Every detail of her expression returned all he had forgotten. Yet, the very act was what truly returned those forgotten moments and all those intimate details. Centuries of penetrating with his fangs had driven away that whole other world of intimacy. She had given to him more than she knew within their short time within their odd and unnatural situation.

His lips again crushed passionately against hers as he heightened his motion. The subtle hint of pain within her gasps subsided and within his ears he heard those lovely muffled moans of pleasure and felt their vibrations through their kiss.

The further beyond he guided her, the more and more he realized everything immortality nearly deadened inside him. The loveliness of her body's instinctive responses to blend into rhythm with his. The heightening of her body heat that spread over every youthful inch of her then burned against his immortally chilled flesh. The passion felt beating her heart rapidly, felt with each erratic heave of her chest and pressed against his. Those sensational vocals sounded like a sweet orchestrated melody as those notes grew higher and louder.

He realized, right then, if he could feed within her dreams to satisfy his unnatural hunger then satisfy his more natural and carnal hunger, he would find a way to free himself. For right then, he felt more alive than ever thought possible. He was more alive within the opening walls of her dreams than he was within the walls of his immortal flesh. His soul was confined but she made his spirit sore as he never felt before.

Yes, his freedom from purgatory would be found. Everything that had happened told him his second chance would swing wide open. He would step forward back into existence and immediately he would steal her from the grasp of permanent death. The promise was made within his ghostly mind and most importantly, within the ghostly none beating heart. She would become his Rose.

_**(Author)**_

_**Yep, I extended the intimacy factor in this chapter. I thought we needed even more substance for our humane Jerry Dandridge... he is embracing his humanity more and more because Rose. It's getting closer to the end, well the end of the beginning of Rose's Journey... and yes I'm gonna do the same to the other ones as I've done with this one. I'm taking a break from writing new stuff or continuing writing on them, wanna just make Rose's Journey the way it is meant to be! :D**_

_**FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA!**_


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

It was purely amazing Rose's gift.

No matter how it came to develop, Rose's gift gave new life to Jerry Dandridge. It started again, that centuries old ritual. The ghostly chimes sounded the arrival of dusk and the vampire again was raring and ready to begin. A ritual began for her as well. At five-thirty she took sleeping pills and was asleep by dusk.

Into her dreams he manifested and he was given back his freedom. Her gift and dreams gave him that once nightly ritual of feeding and each time he felt stronger, neared the great creature he was in life.

Anywhere and everywhere, each night was a different place and victim. Just the simple task of looking to the pages of a magazine, she would memorize locations and within her dreams they formed vividly and real. He was again a creature of the night, a formidable force again able to indulge in the nature of his beast, the hunt he craved. So many flavors and tastes he once took for granted he now cherished. Each pursuit was different but the outcome was always the same, blood then death.

For that entire holiday week it repeated over and over as it had for him over a year before.

Sunday evening she brought them to the busy hustling streets of L.A. where she witnessed him seduce then kill a scantily dressed prostitute who was left in an alley dumpster. Monday evening it was a small town where he simply picked a random straggler and effortlessly drained the man of blood then left the drained body soaking in a watery drainage ditch.

Tuesday another place and another victim, a woman on a late night jog through a small park, left in the surrounding bushes when he finished. One after another they were consumed each night.

During the day Rose stayed awake, ignored what brewed within the flows of her diseased blood. She left the house and spent hours upon hours in the library. She studied anything that might give any insight to his ghostly infliction but it seemed a hopeless task. She would return each day, slightly weathered by lack of appetite and bouts of pain and nausea. She spent nearly an hour in attempt to soak away the physical tapping of that brewing illness. By five-thirty she again popped two sleeping pills, waited for sleep and another journey with her spectral companion.

When her eyes opened in sleep she was somewhere new, unfamiliar but refreshing by that unfamiliarity. He would manifest and she would again bear witness to what she saw as a form of morbidly designed art.

He was graceful, smooth, and so eerily calm when the pursuit commenced. The pursuit wasn't instantaneous, it would always begin as if she and he were on a type of depraved date and ended quite perfectly, to her. The ending began with his blood stained lips against hers. She grew strangely accustomed to the taste of blood. She actually started to anticipate tasting the essence of his kill. Death was temptation.

Friday evening approached. Rose finished bathing, soaked in hot water nearly up to her neck. What was inside her, those festering cancer cells, wasn't near any real potential to explode and take her over. She knew her mom had been ill off and on before finally breaking down and going to the doctor but after that it seemed a downward spiral. She already knew it was there and knew it would be some time when it would truly rear its ugly head but until then she would continue as normal. Well, normal to her but to others, insane and illogical, spending nights within her dreams with a ghost of a vampire.

As with that new ritual, she emerged from the bathroom with two sleeping pills in hand and went to the kitchen to wash them down with a Coke. Her dad called that day to inform her that they would arrive home Sunday evening.

How was her new days and nights going to work with their return and the return of school? She would have to figure it out when the time came.

She left the kitchen, tossed the pills into her mouth then took a long swallow of fizzy soda. In a half hour she would again see the new focus in her life, her dark ghost and spectral lover. Yep, she could proudly say she had herself a lover at the age of seventeen.

She paused at the bottom of the stairs with a frown. Huh, she thought, seventeen and having sex with a forty something looking but thousand year old vampire ghost. She giggled then moved up the steps and onto the landing. The circular window yet not replaced, just boarded over.

She entered her bedroom, closed the doors behind her. She moved to the bed then set the can of Coke on the table.

Once under the covers she laid back, her eyes stared up at the ceiling. She decided to think about where they would go as she lay in wait for the pills to kick in.

Where should they go, she thought, so he could choose his evening's source of bloody sustenance? They've gone many places, quite a few were riskier streets where his taste for hookers was satisfied.

Her eyes slowly closed as the fast acting pills began their sleepy effects. Her lips softly smiled, always anticipated to see him. Again, time for her to escape into the vastness of her mind. Into a deep sleep she fell and her gift was instantaneous.

She heard music somewhat muffled with the roar of chattering and complaining voices. She felt air chilled by the late fall, near winter chill. Her eyes drifted open and focused on the neon glow of a sign hung above a crowded entrance.

Welcome to Club Radio.

Her eyes frowned in confusion with her nose slightly wrinkled. Why there? Why not Paris, London, or something else far away?

But it wasn't her who made the choice.

Her head slowly turned to her right, "Going local, huh?" she asked with a grin, "Are you reminiscing tonight?"

Yes, Jerry's idea, "It's been a while." he stated, again the stunning fashion statement he always been, the designer Dracula of the eighties. In that strange plain of existence within Rose's dreams, he no longer wore the clothing he wore into death. His very stylish taste for expensive attire was again fed and he looked as remarkable as he always claimed.

He spoke up, "Oh, I almost forgot," he lifted his right hand and offered Rose a long stemmed crimson rose then chimed with a grin, "A rose for a Rose."

"That's so cheesy," she commented though her smile said differently. She eagerly took the rose. She never received flowers besides those that had blanketed her mom's casket. "So," she spoke, "Why exactly are we here?" she took a moment to inhale the very real soft rose scent, "I thought I did all the place picking."

"I took charge tonight," he stated with a soft smile then added, "Thought it only appropriate that the gentleman planned the date."

"Yeah, I need a break." she quipped then asked, "So, you're not worried someone might recognize you here?"

"Like I said, it's been a while." he repeated, offered his arm to her the explained, "Unlikely a single soul ever returned after my last visit." he slightly huffed a laugh with his grin smug, "And we know, definitely the bouncers have changed."

She shook her head then looped her arm with his and commented, "This is gonna to be interesting."

"Oh, undoubtedly," he stepped forward off the sidewalk and started to escort her across the street, "Never a dull moment when I'm around."

She quickly halted and looked at him with concern, "I can't get in there." she stated and pointed at the club, "I ain't old enough."

He quickly remedied her concern, "Don't worry," he commented, reached into the pocket of his black blazer then handed her an ID and stated, "You're twenty-one tonight."

"Yeah, still too young for ya," she giggled then eyed at the impressive looking fake ID but had to add, "By centuries."

He drolly responded, "Ha-ha, funny." He shook his head and proceeded forward towards the crowded entrance.

"I know, right!" she eagerly agreed to his sarcasm.

Charley Brewster tapped his hand against the steering wheel to the beat of the music that played from his Mustang's stereo. He drove down the busy street, a street he knew but hated. He was on his way to pick up Amy for their date at the movies. His eyes stared forward, caught the neon glow of the Club Radio sign. He hated that place and the memories of the night he almost lost Amy forever, literally forever.

He slowed down the Mustang as it approached the rear of another car that had stopped in the middle of the street letting out anxious clubbers. "Ah, come on," he whined with a roll of his eyes. He pressed his foot against the break just near the red glow of taillights then the Mustang went to a stop as the idiots in front of him took their time getting out of the vehicle. "Douche bags," he grumbled.

He shook his head then his eyes glanced towards the line of clubbers clustered over the sidewalk, obviously waited their turn to get access into the club.

At first he wasn't sure if he saw who believed he saw, Rose Garrett. His eyes frowned with confusion. He knew she definitely wasn't old enough to gain access into the club. He continued to, his frown tensed as his eyes looked to the hand against Rose's back with a strangely familiar silver ring. Slowly his eyes shifted, bit by bit they widened then snapped to their max width the moment they saw an all too damned familiar profile, it wasn't possible. His eyes blinked and head shook, tried to shake away the impossible.

His eyes snapped wide again, both Rose and that impossibility vanished. Maybe because of what he knew happened inside that club made him see things?

A loud horn blared behind him, he startled then moved his foot to the gas pedal. "I need to call the doc," he breathed then eased the Mustang forward. The car in front was already a distance down the road.

Jerry knew that red Mustang well. He grumbled in thought, the little shit had it redone since he demolished it.

"You think he saw us?" Rose questioned, they had mixed into the crowd outside the club. His lips sneered, "Oh, he did," he answered, "But he doesn't want to believe his own eyes which I don't blame him." he turned, smiled at Rose then said, "Don't worry about him. If he wants to forget then let him forget, for the time being that is." then he confidently promised, "I'll remind him when the time is right."

With a smirk, she commented, "You're damned sinister, you know that."

He nudged her forward, "Yes, of course I am," he smugly agreed, "One of my better qualities amongst many others."

He shook his head as she belted out a loud laugh.

"This music sucks!" Rose sang loudly against the music that filled the club, "Oh yeah, this music really sucks!"

Who thought you could get a little tipsy when you're technically not there but then again you are?

Well, she didn't and after about a couple drinks she felt damned good. She sat on a tall stool at one of those tall tables with the small round tabletops. To her, that so called date didn't feel like much of a date because her so called date had slipped away to enjoy another little game of prey versus predator somewhere within that club.

She was tired of the music for it was more disco and very little rock. Stupid disco freaks, she commented in thought, danced stupidly and wore idiotic clubber attire. She wished they would have gone to some biker joint where the music would undoubtedly have been monstrous metal or rock. Yet, she frowned, couldn't imagine her date fitting in amongst a bunch of leather wearing biker dudes. Jerry was somewhat in his element there at the club and she didn't mind the idea of one of those disco freaks being that evening's feast.

Yet, she felt so damned awkward as she watched folks stroll by while as they tried to bang their heads to music that wasn't worthy of head banging. Yeah, her head made a sharp nod in agreement, when he finished they were going elsewhere.

"Hiya, little lady," a man's voice shouted over the music.

She reluctantly looked to her right and leaned against the table was a complete disco freak.

The guy wore a bright blue silk shirt with his hairy chest exposed. His smile was bleached white with a tacky porn star mustache stretched above it. Around his neck he wore three gaudy and way too bulky gold necklaces. He was creepy with his smile seemingly frozen in place.

Oh, she thought, people thought vampires were creepy. She turned her eyes away from the cartoonish clubber character. "Where are you?" she asked under a nervous breath.

"Right here, darling." the guy answered cute chick's question then shuffled to the front of the table with his smile still frozen over his lips beneath the too full mustache. He eagerly suggested, "You can go ahead and stop looking because here I am, gorgeous." He lifted his arms to gesture himself as the complete package.

Maybe if she just pretended he didn't exist he'd go away, she hoped. Wait, her face grimaced, she tried to ignore her ghost but he refused to leave, thankfully. She slightly shifted atop the stool to keep her distance.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" the guy asked, relentless, "Does the kitty cat got your tongue? Can't you say hello to good ole Gary? What's your name, beautiful?" He reached and planted his gold ring clustered hand against her knee.

She grimaced and quickly shifted further on the stool, pried her knee free from the guy's greasy mitt. She refused to satisfy the guy with eye contact. She had a creepy sense, got a pedophile vibe. Great, she thought, on her ID it said she was twenty-one.

Boy, she really wanted to make him go away like she had the last time they were in that club scene. Their travels in her dreams, each time became more and more real. And right then, again a real setting and there was no making the tall and hairy weirdo vanish as she had in the past.

She slipped off the stool, tried to dodge good ole Gary but he stepped to the side and blocked her escape. "Excuse me," she nervously said, he was too creepy and his beady ogling eyeballs made it worse, "I have to find my date."

"Like I said, Gary's right here, doll baby." the creepy Gary sang then actually started an attempt to sway to the beat of the music. He definitely thought he would succeed enticing the young woman. He creepily suggested, "Hey, how about you and Gary take a little spin on the dance floor, hmm."

"No thanks," Rose quickly said then squeezed passed the guy.

Gary, he who referred to himself in the first person, grabbed the young thing by the arm. Rose pulled back then grimaced in response to the tight grip and said, "Please, let go."

"Hey, let's dance." the tool Gary snickered then moved forward. He pulled his catch of the evening by the arm into the crowd of dancing clubbers.

Rose tugged and tugged to free her arm from the guy's grip. "No," she shouted over the loud music, tried to plant her chain belted ankle boots against the floor but the flooring was slickly polished, only caused her to slide.

She again shouted, "Let go of my arm!" then she roughly pulled back and finally broke his grip. She spun around in attempt to leave the outer rim of the dance floor but again the guy snatched her by the arm and was spun back around.

She angrily shouted,"Asshole!" she reared back and shoved her hand against his somewhat sweat stained shoulder and again shouted, "I said no, you creep!"

Asshole Gary reacted and snatched her other forearm, gripped both tightly.

She grew frustrated and again shouted, "Let go, you dickhead!"

Dickhead Gary jerked her forward, his porn star mustache draped against his callous and amused grin. "Oh, come on, baby, gimme a whirl!" he laughed, enjoyed the responses from the little firecracker of a young lady, "Give good ole Gary a little whirl!"

"Good ole Gary can go whirl himself!" she snapped back then swung her boot forward and struck him hard in his tacky fake leather covered shin which finally forced him to release one of her arms. With her arm free, she swung and smacked the disgusting moron across his porn star mustached mug.

Bad ole Gary snarled in response to being roughly slapped by the young lady. His beady eyes narrowed. His already poorly kept ego knocked down a notch. With horrible instincts and obvious poor ethics, he swung in attempt to backhand the young woman. Before the blow could be made, his wrist was swiftly snatched by a man's hand, a man's icy hand.

Subdued Gary's beady eyes darted to the face that went with the powerfully tensing hand, the vice grip grew painful. His face distorted in response to the gradually heightening pain.

Jerry top lip snarled, "You shouldn't have done that." he growled then stated, "It isn't very polite attempting to hit a lady." He tightened his grip, felt the wrist bone wrapped by his fingers desiring to buckle. He twisted the man's arm back then leaned down and brought his face an inch from the man's. The intensity in his eyes transformed the man's face with fear. He snatched the back of the man's neck, kept jerk Gary's arm twisted then brought his snarled lips to the guy's ear. "You die tonight." he promised with a loud whisper.

With a shove, Jerry sent the man backwards against the dance floor. He glared down at the terrified coward, made his promise clear through the threatening expression of his eyes.

A tall brute of a man wearing a black muscle top approached and quickly asked, "What's going on here?"

Rose quickly stepped forward and pointed down at the idiot still on his rear with his eyes fearfully locked with Jerry's. She shouted over the music,"That asshole was gonna hit me because I refused to dance with him!"

The bouncer narrowed his eyes and looked down at good ole Gary. "Gary, you fucking idiot!" he grumbled loudly then reached down and snatched the nuisance by the silk shirt, "How many fucking times you gonna get your dumb ass kicked, huh?!" he effortlessly jerked the man onto his feet, "That's it, Gary, you're officially banned from the club! You've fucked up for the last time, moron!"

The bouncer looked to Rose and apologized, "Sorry, missy, and no worries, he's outta here for damned good!" he shook his head then jerked Gary with him as he pushed through the crowd and his voice loudly yelled, "Gary, I see you even outside the club I'm gonna bust your head!"

Rose sighed with relief. Wow, she thought, that guy was scarier than when her ghost first stepped into her life. She turned and faced her rescuer from creepy and not so good ole Gary. "Thanks," she sighed then aimed her thumb in the direction Gary was hauled off, "He's why I loathe disco freaks."

"Are you alright?" Jerry asked over the music, "Did he hurt you?" He fumed and knew he found his target for the evening.

She nodded and said, "I'm fine but I thought you were gonna make a repeat of your previous visit!"

He reached, grabbed the sides of her face then stated, "I wouldn't take that chance again but," he smirked, "The idiot conveniently picked himself as my choice for this evening." He watched a spark of excitement form in her eyes in response to his statement.

_**(Author)**_

_**So Jerry Dandridge returned to Club Radio with a better outcome! YAY! But a not so outcome for Good Ole Gary the flaming douche bag is on its way! :D**_

_**FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA!**_


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

Good ole Gary was literally tossed onto the street by the muscle bound bouncer. He cursed loudly, had face planted on the pavement. He pushed himself up off the street as a car blared its horn to tell him to move out of the way. He cursed at the vehicle then stumbled forward and moved across the street as he brushed the dirt off his fake leather pants.

Stepping onto the sidewalk, he dug his hand into the pocket of his tight pants fumbling for the keys to his red BMW convertible. "Stupid bitch," he mumbled as he moved along the sidewalk and jerked the keys out from his pocket, "Stupid club," he continued to mumble under his breath, "Stupid asshole Jimmie," he referred to the bouncer, "Damned stupid guy too, almost broke my wrist." He limply shook his wrist still, felt the aching side effects of it being almost crushed.

His eyes quickly caught glimpse of that damned red head who got his ass booted and banned from the club. His beady eyes watched as she ran up onto the sidewalk then vanished around the corner of the building. His eyes narrowed with pure anger, hated women all together because they were a bunch of cock teasing bitches unwilling to fall for his lack of charms and not so genius lines.

"Bitch," Gary sneered then marched towards the corner she vanished.

He stormed around the corner, caught a quick glimpse of the young lady as she turned into alleyway at the right. "I'm gonna get ya, you bitch." he mumbled under his breath and headed for the alleyway.

He skidded to a stop before the alleyway, saw her halfway down. He snickered with satisfaction then moved into the alley as he stomped his fake leather loafers against the dampened concrete.

"Hey!" he shouted down the alley and watched her stop and turn, "Yeah, you!" He pointed at her then watched her turn then start to run down the alley. He knew that alleyway, screwed a few prostitutes in that dank environment and knew there was a dead end that the little red head would surely discover.

His pace quickened, heard her boots strike the concrete which echoed off the walls of the two buildings. "Gary's gonna get ya, baby!" he called down the alleyway, "Good ole Gary's gonna get ya! Oh, yes, he is!"

He moved around a bend in the alley, knew the dead end was close and that was where he would catch her. Oh, yep, he was confident he was gonna get him some of that little red headed tail if she liked it or not.

He stopped and glared forward, watched her turn around then back against the dead end's brick wall. He lifted his hand and aimed his finger accusingly at the young woman. "No one gets away with fucking with good ole Gary and that includes you, you little bitch!" he continued forward as she stood leaned back against the wall without a single show of fear, "You're not gonna get away from Gary, that's for damned sure!"

He slowed his pace, found her expression odd. He noticed there was a type of sinister amusement in the manner she stared back at him. His mind quickly raced backward.

_You die tonight_.

He swiftly changed his mind about enacting revenge then swiftly spun around but practically walked into the man who nearly snapped his wrist. His eyes grew wide as they watched dark brown eyes become consumed by unnatural red rimmed with fiery orange and centered by bold black and fine pupils. His mouth gaped open as fear consumed his entire expression.  
"That's right, Gary," Jerry sneered with his lips slightly pulled back and gave a flash of his fangs, "Good ole Gary dies tonight."

Rose stood with her eyes very watchful of the moment Jerry snatched dumb ass good ole Gary by the tacky silk shirt then jerk the man forward which caused jerk Gary to screech like a horrified school girl.

She stepped forward with her eyes focused as weirdo Gary was lifted off his cheap shoes. Her eyes shifted quickly to the right as asshole Gary was slammed back against the alley wall. She studied the terror that engulfed dickhead Gary's trembling expression. She gasped with excitement the moment her eyes widely witnessed soon to be dead Gary's neck be tore into.

Gary's body started to convulse as his face quickly grew pale. His wide eyes looked to the red head.

Rose felt nothing for the likes of dickhead Gary. She lacked no sympathy as she watched closely as the man's eyes became vacant and lifeless. Her lips formed a soft smirk of fascinated amusement. She thought, he deserved death.

Her eyes shifted downward as the little troll of a man slid down the wall then dropped to the side with a mild dead body thud. Her eyes lifted and shifted to Jerry as he turned to the side with pure satisfaction over his grinning and blood glistening lips.

She quickly stepped up to Jerry then without any hesitation, she crushed her lips against his. She desired to taste that pathetic man's fresh blood. She swiftly pulled back and looked into his beautiful red eyes. "He doesn't deserve to come back." she firmly stated, "What do I do to make sure his dumb ass doesn't come back?"

"Decapitation," Jerry gave the simplest answer, "Sever the head." He watched a remarkably amused grin form over her blood smudged lips. He brought his hand against the side of her face and pressed the pad of his thumb across her lips. With amazement, he watched closely as she put her hand over his then guided his blood smeared thumb between her lips. His lips smirked, enjoyed the sensation of her eagerly but slowly suck the blood from the pad of his thumb.

Her eyes looked up into his as she slowly slid his thumb from between her lips. She tasted the metallic saltiness over her tongue. She pressed her lips together then lightly licked to taste the stain of blood.

"Gary stays dead." she confidently said. Her eyes darted to the right and aimed down at dead Gary. "My dream," she spoke with a sinister tremble, "And in my dream he stays dead as a damned doornail." Her eyes narrowed with her mind focused.

From the depths of her mind a very useful tool developed clenched in her right fist. Her arm lifted and her left hand was the fisted wood handle of an axe. Her eyes glanced at Jerry, she loved the sly grin across his lip.

"I don't know," she spoke up, "But I've always been was curious what it would be like to cut someone's head off." She smirked then again focused on the dead Good ole Gary.

She raised her arms, hands firmly gripped, then walked up to the corpse. She lifted her arms back and swung forward. She brought the manifested axe blade down against the side of the neck burying it deeply. Her leg lifted and pressed the sole of her boot against the body's shoulder then jerked, freed the axe blade. Another swing she brought it down again followed by another with a strange morbid gleam in her wide eyes. Another swing then another and the head dropped free of the body.

She grinned with pride then took a couple steps back admiring her handy work.

Jerry was more than amazed by what he just witnessed. She displayed not one bit of hesitation what was needed to prevent another vampire from being created. He was truly impressed by how she developed in that passed week.

When her eyes shifted and looked into his he saw more potential than ever in his entire life. She was beyond amazing, beyond remarkable, beyond any description he could fathom. Yes, he could feel that soon he would step from that purgatorial prison and it would be her that helped to pull him back from death. And when that pull happened he would pull her away from death and embrace her with another gift, the eternal and everlasting gift of immortality. He refused to allow permanent death to take her; she was too precious to him.

His hand lifted and gently brushed back against her face. It was time to finally attempt a step outward. For days he hadn't manifested but only in her dreams. It was time for him to discover where that journey had led him. "Rose," he spoke softly, "You have to wake up." He watched her eyes frown with question then stated, "You must wake up."

His eyes focused deeply within hers and spoke with his mind. _Rose, wake up! Wake up!_ His mental voice demanded. _The dream has to end now, Rose! End it, now! _

She gasped loudly when her eyes snapped wide open and looked up at the shadowed ceiling of her bedroom. She breathed heavily, the sleeping pills' effects still weighed against her. Her eyes felt slightly heavy as they shifted from side to side.

She pushed up against the bed, her head felt heavy as her eyes sleepily tried to focus. "Where are you?" she asked. desperately searched for him through the shadows within the room, "Jerry Dandridge, where the hell are you?"

She dragged her legs out from under the covers then draped them over the side of the bed. The ache was there throughout her entire body. She brought her feet against the floor then reached forward and turned on the table lamp. She quickly looked to see no sign of him. Pushing through the sleepiness, she rose up off the bed as she fumbled her hands for her glasses.

Once her glasses were over her eyes she searched more carefully through the room. "Shithead?" she called out, moved across the floor and felt no signaling chill in the air.

She stepped out of the bedroom as she looked around, the sleepiness wearing off. "Where are you?" she grumbled under her breath half expecting him to pop out of nowhere and scare the hell out of her.

She moved down the stairs then went to the living room and no ghost. She went to the kitchen then the bathroom, hadn't felt nor heard any sign of his presence.

A panic began to race her heart and heighten her breathing. Where was he?

Something felt wrong. She moved through the dining room headed towards the basement door. Where was that chill draining the warmth from the air? Where was his voice only she could hear? Where was his face only she could see? Where the hell was he?!

She moved down into the basement with the panic growing. She felt fearful, not fearful of ghosts or vampires but fearful that the ghostly vampire had vanished from her life. She found the overhead light and pulled the chain, nothing but emptiness which also felt growing inside her. "No," her voice was weak with that unsettling sense that he was gone, "No, please." Her body started to tremble as her wide eyes searched the thick shadows, no familiar human silhouette. The damned air was warm, the furnace hummed loudly in her ears and within the eerie silence. "No," she softly whimpered, felt the sting of tears in her eyes.

Her head slowly turned, her body followed. She moved to the steps, jerked the chain darkening the basement. Up the curved basements steps she moved on shaky legs. Back through the house she walked with her eyes painfully frowned as light trickles of tears streaked down her pale cheeks. She went up the steps as she gripped the banister as her arm hugged against her abdomen. Her entire body trembled and felt drained as she moved for the open bedroom door. She pushed through the door and sounded a loud sob, a mournful cry of the horrifying sense of loss. So like the loss of her mother.

She moved before the fireplace. Her tear glistening eyes focused on the ivory music. Her fiercely shaking hand reached then lifted the lid and the melody chimed. Devastation emotionally filled her entire expression and rained mournful tears from her eyes.

She snatched the music box with both hands and with a bitter scream she spun around and slung the delicate music box across the room. The music box struck the wall, the fragile ivory shattered raining delicate white fragments onto the floor with bits and pieces of the broken mechanisms.

She knew he was gone and felt that knowledge nearly implode her heart. She collapsed to the floor against her knees then released another agony filled cry. Her hands slapped over her tear drenched face as sob after sob passed her trembling lips. Her hands dropped and arms quickly hugged over her abdomen as she rocked front to back.

It was gone, all of it was gone and she knew it and hated it. No more dreaming. No more not feeling alone. No more nothing! No more him!

Charley Brewster had just entered his bedroom and heard a scream penetrate through his closed window. His eyes were wide as they stared through his window and to the neighboring window, a light seen through the drawn shade. His heart fearfully pounded as he thought, so reminiscent of the night he heard that first scream which ignited that nightmare. Yet, what he heard wasn't a scream of death but of emotional pain. He realized that if he heard that scream that meant he hadn't seen Rose Garrett outside Club Radio which also meant he hadn't seen that impossibility.

He closed his eyes, it wasn't happening again because his nightmare ended a year ago and hadn't returned. He turned and stepped out of his bedroom closing the door.

That nightmare had ended when he and Peter Vincent ended Jerry Dandridge. Never again will he allow another nightmare take his life over and ignoring that scream prevented it from returning.

_**(Author)**_

_**:( Poor, poor Rose... again faced another loss, another person taken from her. Is it permanent? Had Jerry found his way out of his hell? Will Rose face the mortal death alone as she continues to mourn another loss? *sniffle-sniffle***_

_**FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA!**_


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

Sunday evening John Garrett returned home with Jacob. He entered a dark and quiet house and immediately there was concern. He dropped his luggage, sent Jacob to turn on the lights. There was something unsettling inside him as he made his way up the stairs, turned on the landing then moved towards the double doors. He opened the doors and entered his daughter's dark bedroom. He reached and flipped on the overhead light then looked to the bed.

Rose was asleep with the blankets bundled near the foot of the bed.

John stepped toward the bed with a soft smile but paused near the bed. His eyes frowned and focused on how she trembled. He moved forward then turned on the table lamp to look more closely. His eyes shifted, studied the glistening of sweat that covered all bare portions of her skin, evident her pajamas were stained with sweat.

"Rose," he spoke up but softly then said more firmly, "Rose," his tone filled with concern. His hand darted down and cupped against her forehead, felt the slick of sweat and feverish heat. "Rose," he said his daughter's name with more panic as he touched his hand about her pale and feverish face.

Jacob shouted, "Lights are on, Dad!" He rushed into the room but skidded to a halt the moment his dad quickly looked to him. The boy recognized the expression on his dad's face. His wide little eyes looked to his sister. "Dad, what's wrong?" he quickly asked, his little voice cracked with fear and worry.

John stated, "Jacob, we gotta take Rose to the hospital." He tried to keep his voice calm as he saw the building fear over the boy's face.

He quickly gathered Rose into his arms, lifted her off the bed then turned and moved across the floor. He told Jacob and himself, "It'll be alright, she's got a fever that's all." He was desperate not to think the worse, his wife.

"Come on, son." He called and left the bedroom as he carefully carried his fiercely trembling and fever burned daughter.

It started, that journey started the moment the blood tests came back and revealed a positive diagnosis for Leukemia.

John Garrett was devastated for a second time, first his wife and now his daughter.

Jacob Garrett, only ten years of age, faced the possibility of losing his sister after he lost his mother to the same disease.

Rose Garrett had already known it was inside her but didn't speak of her knowledge. In fact, she spoke to no one. She said not a word or gave a response when the doctor stood before the hospital bed and gave the news that she was diseased with the same cancer that killed her mother. She was blank eyed, without emotion, even when she heard her dad's muffled sob or her brother's loud cries.

So much effort, she thought silently to herself as the doctor kept on and on about treatments, and now he was gone. So little time, she continued to think as her dad questioned everything the doctor said, and now he was gone. She couldn't muster the mental or emotional strength to reason with what happened, how it happened that he was no more. She truly believed he would find his way back, find the door and step through then do as he said, save her from that damned cancerous journey to inevitable death.

What if he had found his door? What if he no longer needed her because he stepped back into that horrible world of the living and because of that, he was gone?

Her eyes closed out the world around her, the familiar sterile white walls and floors.

"We'll do whatever we have to." John firmly stated as he nodded his head as young Jacob was tucked under his arm and hugged him around the waist. He immediately determined that he wasn't going to lose his daughter as he had his wife.

Rose's eyes snapped open and she looked to her dad who stood at the foot of the bed before the doctor. "No," she quickly spoke up for the first time after days of being hospitalized. Both the doctor and John looked to Rose with question.

"I ain't doing it." she firmly stated with a droll tone, "I refuse to go through what Mom went through and she…" she paused, looked to Jacob's puffy and teary eyes, "No," she shook her head then looked to her dad's horrified expression, "No, Dad."

"Rose," John spoke, heard Jacob beginning to sob again, "We need to talk about this."

"No," she firmly stated with her tone slightly lifted, "Sorry but no."

"Rose, now's not the time." John firmly said fearful of traumatizing Jacob any further.

"No, it's the time." she blatantly stated, "I'm sorry but I will not go through any of it."

"Rose," John slightly snapped, felt Jacob's arms hug around him tighter.

She firmly stated, "I'm eighteen in February, less than three months, which gives me the right to refuse." she couldn't allow her poor brother's emotions ruin her right to refuse treatment, "I wanna go home as soon as possible. I don't wanna stay in this place another damned night." she was getting angry with the look her dad continued to give her, "And I don't wanna go back to that house," not that house because he wasn't there, "I wanna go back to the east coast. I wanna see my friends. I wanna be where Mom's at, not here."

Her eyes flinched, Jacob loudly bellowed then saw him race out of the hospital room.

"Damn it, Rose," John grumbled, "Don't be selfish!"

Her eyes narrowed then glared at her dad, "I'm not, you are!" she shouted at him, "I want it to take its damn course instead of prolonging it just like what happened to Mom!" she accused him, "You begged her to continue with all those treatments and look what happened, she died anyways!"

She kicked back the thin sheet and scratchy blanket and brought her legs over the side of the uncomfortable mattress.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" John shouted angrily back at his daughter, "You're young and have a chance to fight this!"

"Bullshit!" she shouted and stood up on her feet covered by those useless green hospital socks dotted with rubber grips, "It's bullshit and you know it!"

She snatched the tote bag that was brought to the hospital with a change of clothes and pulled out the clean pair of pajama bottoms. She blatantly stated, "I'm dying and I accept it and you," she darted her eyes to her dad, "Yeah, you have to accept it. Focus on Jacob instead of forcing me to go through something I don't wanna go through, Dad. Don't try to make me because I'll fight you." she tugged on the bottoms, "Just take me back to that damned house and do me a favor and find me a way back to the east coast where I belong."

She softened her demeanor, "Please, Dad, I don't want to die here. I wanna go home, my real home." her eyes pleaded with him to understand or at least accept her choice, "Call Aunt Julie, I'll stay with her and Uncle Phil. You stay here with Jacob in that house and in this town where your job is."

She stepped up to him seeing the heartbreak in his eyes and expression, "Please, for me, let me go now instead of later." she encouraged with plea then finally felt the emotion of tears fill her eyes.

Were those for her dad's pain or for her own?

"Let me go, please." she continued to plead, "It's okay, Dad, I'm asking you to let me go. You don't deserve to see me like you saw Mom, like we all saw Mom. Jacob doesn't need to go through seeing all that again. Please, I don't want him to see it again."

John stared at Rose's face, so much like her mother's and already with hints of that disease. "I'll call Julie," he reluctantly said, he remember the suffering his sweet Anne had gone through and imagining Rose going through the same was difficult. He stated, "But I won't stay here. I'll finish what I came to do and when the takeover is finished I'll request leave and you're brother and I will be back to the east coast as soon as possible."

John somewhat startled the moment Rose embraced him with her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. His eyes were filled with devastation as he wrapped his arms around her. He couldn't say anymore and lowered his head down against her shoulder. She was so young and he knew it was unjust for someone so young to accept what she had.

"Thank you, Dad," Rose whispered. The sooner she was away from that house where her ghost no longer resided, the better. She didn't want to be there in that house if he wasn't there, her spectral vampire. Now that he was gone life seemed useless and worthless. She wanted as far away as possible, to leave it all as just a series of ill fated dreams.

He was just a dream, she told herself though knew it wasn't true.

Rose left the hospital with her dad and brother, prepared to continue that journey which ultimately would lead to a forever end. Returning to that house, she had a lingering hope that he would return but stepping foot inside she knew he wouldn't return.

And a week later, she stepped out that door and felt empty for he never returned. Her belongings had been loaded into the small U-Haul trailer attached to the hitch of her Uncle Phil's Chevy Blazer. She said goodbye to her dad and Jacob but silently said a final farewell to those dreams, not a single dream since she left the hospital.

She traveled silently with her eyes vacant as the cities and states passed by in a blur for those three days. Her body ached and she knew the disease started its slow course. How long did she have before it would completely plague her every waking moment? When would it finally fulfill its course?

No one, not even the professionals could give any definite date when the end would come, a waiting game.

It was somewhat bittersweet when she returned to her hometown near the ocean. Always a smile, she forced herself to smile in honor of her mom but it was only physical. Inside she couldn't relieve the emotional ache for she experienced another loss. Another taken away from her far too soon.

Christmas came and went as she was surrounded by all those familiar faces, family and friends. It lightened her a little when she reunited with her head banging heavy metal loving group. She felt it inside her each and every day, the disease brewed but the emptiness was greater. Every night when she closed her eyes there were no dreams or nightmares.

During the weekdays she returned to her old school surrounded by her peers that saw her. She was no longer invisible but hated the sympathetic glances that each and every one of them gave her, just passing glances but noticeable nonetheless.

The New Year began, 1987, and it was inside her, it grew stronger while she grew weaker.

How much longer?

She didn't know, no one knew.

Her birthday came and went. Eighteen and likely she would never see nineteen. Her friends prepared for graduation and a continuance into their adult lives while she prepared for an end. Her dad still hadn't returned to the east coast which she thought best; let her go now instead of later.

She pushed on and on, there was something inside her wanting desperately to see the ocean at springtime. There was a desire to feel the warm breeze, smell the salty air, and listen to the crashing waves.

Her appetite was lost but she ate anyways. The pain grew but she pushed through it taking minimal pain medication the doctors prescribed. She couldn't continue school for she became too drained to really muster the strength to be normal.

Her spirits rose the moment a hint of spring came and she anticipated the moment she could go to the sandy and rocky beach at the base of the cliffs. It was arranged upon Spring's full bloom but she wanted to go it alone, didn't want her friends or family there so she could really make a final farewell but not to her life, to him wherever he had gone.

It was sobering for the others but for Rose it was almost vitalizing. Her dear friends and Aunt Julie and Uncle Phil helped her get down to the beach as it was near dark. Her crazy friends set up a small fire and the old boom box on the sandy beach about ten feet from the rocky and sandy shoreline. They respected her request to be left alone, said they would return within a few hours as she asked.

She sat down on a blanket beside the fire and to her right was the boom box. She sat with her legs stretched out and ankles crossed as she wore a simple black cotton sundress and loose knit cardigan. Her eyes stared out at the lightly rippling waters and listened as the waves gently push against the shore. She inhaled deeply and took in the salty ocean air. The cliffs towered behind her with the sun nearly vanished.

Her eyes shifted upward, saw the stars begin to brighten as they dotted and clustered throughout the darkening sky. The breeze blew against the sides of her face, lightly brushed back the drape of strawberry blonde hair which was slightly thinner but not dead and falling out as it had happened to her mom. She was thinner but not drastically thin as her mom became. Yes, she was paler but not that deathly ashen pale as her mother's skin became.

A soft and almost content smile formed over her lips, always a smile.

She turned her attention to the boom box and tucked into it a mix cassette she made for that very moment then hit play. She slowly lay back against the blanket, aimed her eyes up through her glasses at the almost black sky filled with stars as a somber melody began to play, Always Somewhere performed by the Scorpions.

Such a beautiful song, she though, heard the lovely guitar of Rudolph Schenker softly sing with the remarkable voice of Claus Meine singing in a nearly mournful and haunting vocal. She didn't hear it as mournful, it was beautiful just as the evening sky above her and the ocean before her. It was her music and played just for her. Most would hear that particular song and feel sadness of loss but she found it comforting. Strange how most songs people thought sad she found comforting and soothing. She understood the song's meaning, knew the lyrics and chorus well, it all came together beautifully and sounded even more beautiful echoing around her against the cliffs.

She lifted her hands and rested them against her abdomen. Her eyes studied the stars then softly closed to allow her mind to be consumed by the melody.

"I no longer question your taste in music." spoke a voice through the music.

She gasped but didn't open her eyes. How cruel to hear that voice through the music, she thought, her mind was cruel. She lifted her hand and brought her fingertips against her forehead.

"The song is quite beautiful." again the voice spoke.

Her brows frowned as she dragged her fingertips across them. She wished her mind's cruelty would end.

She listened to the song fade then waited for the next to begin to play. Another song formed, I Dream In Infrared by Queensryche. She waited for the more powerful music to sound with Geoff Tate's voice harmoniously singing out with that nearly operatic melody throughout the changing notes of his beautiful and haunting voice.

"I believe your music is growing on me." again that voice spoke.

She softly giggled. She thought, was her mind going to be the first to go? She didn't hear it again as the song continued to play. She softly lipped with the lyrics and her voice softly spoke with the chorus, "I only see in infrared… I can't dream anymore," she spoke with a whisper, "Can't you see that I need, too… I can't stand the pain." She pressed her lips together as her hand dropped from her forehead and arm rested back against the blanket.

Another song took over, she started to loudly giggle. Hey You by the Scorpions.

His voice spoke over the music, "I believe you're supposed to be looking at me when this song is playing."

His voice didn't sound from her mind but sounded near her. Her brows again frowned then slowly she dared to open her eyes with them aimed in the direction his voice seemed to come from. Her eyes first looked upon legs covered by tailored and expensive black slacks that stood directly before her bare feet. Her eyes shifted upward, scanned over those long legs, passed a genuine leather belted waist then followed the buttons of a black knit vest and up the buttons of a gray-blue patterned shirt with an open navy blue blazer jacket.

Her eyes widened the moment they looked onto his fire illuminated face. She thought, had to be imagining what her eyes stared at. It had to be an illness induced hallucination or the pain meds.

She blinked and lightly shook her head but upon refocusing, it was really him.

Yes, it was really him. Before Rose was Jerry Dandridge but not a spectral manifestation, Jerry Dandridge in the flesh. He found his way from that purgatorial prison but it truly was she that helped him find his way and opened that door.

Those nights he fed on real mortal blood within her dream's guidance had filled him with the strength and power to pull his way back into the world. Her mind, her gift had freed him, broke down those walls that held him within a ghostly existence. Outward he stepped to reclaim his immortality and life.

She was his savior and so much more. It took him months but he found her for that one moment when he tasted her diseased blood was what gave him the link to find her before death stole her life and light.

He slowly crouched down, his eyes focused within hers which were wide with obvious shock. He noted, she looked so fragile, obvious the disease had begun manifesting itself physically while it continued its ruthless attack inside her. Yet, there was still life and light for he saw it clearly within her blue eyes.

He reached out his hand which held a single crimson rose as his lips softly smiled then he spoke, "A rose for a Rose."

Her eyes looked to the rose as she slowly sat up. She reached out her trembling hand and brought it over his, he was real for she felt the chill of his hand. Her fingers grazed upward and pinched the green stem between her fingers then slid the rose from his fingers. Her eyes focused on the rose as she brought it closer then brushed it under her nose and inhaled the soft signature perfume.

Her eyes shifted and looked into his. She felt her eyes begin to flutter then her eyes rolled back followed by her falling back against the blanket. The shock of seeing and touching him mingled with her body's fragile state dropped her backwards unconscious.

_**(Author)**_

_**Hey you... have you been looking up and playing any of these awesome 80s great heavy metal songs? Hope so. This story was made with a soundtrack. Two songs in particular play a very important role in this story and future Rose's Journey stories... Always Somewhere and Hey You, both by Scorpions... Give them a listen...:D Next, the finale, well for the beginning of Rose's Journey!**_

_**FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA**_


	19. Chapter 19 The Final Intimate Kiss

**Chapter Nineteen**

**The Final Intimate Kiss**

Rose's eyes heavily fluttered as they gently rolled. Her lids lazily opened and she gasped the moment she looked up into his dark eyes. She felt his hand gently touch against the side of her face.

Was she finally dreaming again?

"Am I dreaming?" she asked, her voice a soft whisper, "Are you real?"

Jerry smiled as he lay beside her inside one of many rooms within the privacy of his new but temporary home. "No you're not dreaming." he said with softness, "And, yes, I am real, very real."

He traced his thumb against her bottom lip. How he loved the expression in her slightly sunken eyes, so many emotions were within those blue eyes and all for him. He gently praised, "You did it, Rose." he kept his voice soft, "You assisted in freeing me. You helped me find my way back, Rose."

His eyes were soft as they studied the sobering effects of her advancing disease. He stated, "I can touch you now without a dream." he gently traced his fingertips along the curve of her neck, "And, now, without a dream, you can touch me." He slid his hand down the length of her arm then cupped his hand over hers. He lifted and brought her hand against the side of his face. It was nice to know he was again physical, to feel the touch of her trembling hand proved that definite fact.

She was for once speechless with her hand actually touching him. He was just as stunning a creature as she remembered from those dreams. She didn't care how it happened, what truly set him free and gave back his immortal life, because he was real and right there before her eyes.

Her hand remained against the side of his face as his slid down her forearm. Her fingers lightly touched his face in proof of his real existence. Her lips formed into a smile, always a smile but this time it was real because he was real.

"Yeah," she whispered as her eyes studied every remarkable feature of his lovely face then she nodded, "Yeah, you're definitely real, Jerry Dandridge."

His smile broadened but remained soft. "Rose," he gently spoke her name, "Now that there are no need for dreams, I want to kiss you." his eyes focused on hers, "Do you want me to kiss you?" he asked, "Do you want me to give you the perfect and most intimate kiss I can offer?"

That was what she had hoped since the last time she woke from that last dream, to be given the intimate kiss that only vampires could give. Now that he was there, physically there, that kiss could finally be given.

She gently nodded and whispered, "Yes."

He stated, "And my kiss I give to you." He leaned down and gently pressed his lips against hers. He waited for that moment where he would take her from that final death and give to her forever.

The sensation of her trembling lips returning his kiss heightened his desire to embrace her, to remove that diseased blood from her ailing body and replace it with eternity. His eyes held hers, saw her acceptance of his offering as a gentle comfort returned and brightened the blue within her eyes. Though his masterful mesmerizing abilities were again his to use there was no need, she was in control of her own mind as it always was and how he wanted it to remain.

His return didn't change what was learned or experienced during his seemingly forever entrapment on that ghostly plain. She taught him more in that short period time the differences of deaths. There was only the desire to give her a permanent escape from death and in return she would be with him through another eternity. He refused to know loss again, a loss her tragedy had reminded him of experiencing. It was her who helped give him a second chance, another chance to live. And for gifting him that second life, he would gift her a second chance and life. Forever she will never be touched again by mortal man's fatal diseases. For all eternity she would be young and beautiful and full of that light he came to crave and hunger.

_My Rose_, his mind spoke, _my Rose, forever and always._

With her fingers gentle at the back of his hair as they lightly brushed against the thick black, he lifted his lips from hers. Her head turned to open the side of her neck to him.

His eyes brilliant red and orange focused on that weakened pulse of life. His lips parted and pulled back unveiling the white fangs, the deliverers of death but also the deliverers of immortality. He lowered and with gentle ease pierced his fangs into her ailing flesh, punctured into the flow of diseased blood. He felt her body slightly arched in response and listened to her gasp that was breathy and filled with a sigh of acceptance.

From her body that cancerous blood was slowly consumed as her fated death was denied the full journey. No more watching her body wither and weaken. No more waiting for the moment the disease won and took her life. She was freed from all sources of mortal death. Forever taken away from all the emotional turmoil with the knowledge that death would grab tightly and pull her down into the ground to lay forever beside her mother. Another death was granted but that death would give new life instead of remaining permanent.

His fangs withdrew, a tiny fragment of that blood remained. Ao, an eternity began its journey inside her and would continue on forever and forever.

He gently pressed a kiss against her chilled cheek then his voice softly whispered. "My Rose for forever and always."

One of hundreds, the flier was stapled to the thick bark of a tree.

John Garrett took a step back with his eyes focused on the final image he had of his daughter which was her last high school photo taken months before she disappeared. He had returned to the east coast the moment he was told of Rose's disappearance. Aunt Julie and Uncle Phil returned to the beach to find a barely burning fire, boom box, and blanket but no Rose. Many speculated that Rose had simply stepped out into the ocean that evening and took her own life but he refused to believe in such a speculation.

He returned back to Oak Street in hopes she might have found her way back to 99 Oak but there was no indication that happened or would happen. Months had passed since she vanished. There was no word, reason, and nothing to explain what happened to her. He scattered her image throughout the entire town, tacked fliers between there and the east coast in hopes that someone might have seen her.

Yes, crazy information was phoned in by hundreds throughout the United States to stake claims to have seen Rose. The police and investigators told him it was common to receive so many calls when a reward was offered. It now became hopeless yet he clung to little hope that someday he would know the truth.

He turned and faced the towering house of 99 Oak, a for sale sign staked near the sidewalk. He and Jacob were returning to their original home and the last place Rose was seen.

It was so awesome! Finally a Scorpions concert and damn it was beyond awesome! From the crowd and the massive concert venue Rose emerged. With a broad smile across her lips, she strolled away from the mass of German hard rock enthusiasts who sang loudly in broken English. She got to attend a Scorpions concert in the band's homeland of Germany where they were meant to be seen and heard. She beamed, finally heard her favorite song performed live, performed by perfection. With every step there was a little hop and skip as she loudly hummed the rock tune and joyfully swung her arms with a tee shirt gripped in one hand.

So far she had been to several concerts, it was the first one out of the States but there were many, many more to attend throughout the world. It amazed her to be at the front of the stage as she bounced up and down with so many others as their blood pumped frantically to the excitement of their heartbeats. Such a damned rush she got as she watched the band move across the brightly lit stage. Claus was so close she actually grazed her fingers against his.

She giggled continued to feel the excitement. Yeah, she imagined what such brilliant performers would taste like but she wanted them to continue with their music that she loved.

A black stretch limo steered onto the street and moved slowly as concert goers continued to move across the street. The limo crept to a crawl as it neared Rose then the tinted passenger window rolled down.

A voice spoke through the opened window, "I thought we agreed you were to wait out front."

Rose stopped her stroll as the limo stopped near the edge of the sidewalk. She turned, faced the passenger window then explained, "It's nice out, I wanted to take a little walk instead of standing out there like an idiot."

She stepped off the sidewalk then leaned forward and rested her elbows within the open window. She asked, "Wanna take a leisurely stroll?" she rested her chin against the heel of her hands, "Or ya afraid people are gonna question the motive of a mature man such as yourself strolling along with such a hot and much younger rocker chick such as me, hmm?"

Jerry Dandridge leaned closer to the open window with his eyes narrowed and lips smirked. He quickly remarked, "Yes, they might question the reasons why such an obviously attractive and undoubtedly cultured man such as me is doing with the likes of you, a rocker chick." He shooed her back from the passenger door. He opened the door and rose up out of the limo closing the door then ordered the driver, "Swing back around in about an hour." He turned and faced her.

She grinned up at him as the limo pulled away and sarcastically asked, "You ain't afraid they're gonna think you're my sugar daddy, are ya?" She took a step back up onto the sidewalk.

He rolled his eyes then shook his head and said, "No," then explained, "Because I am your so called sugar daddy. Who's been paying for all your concerts, hmm?"

"You," she chimed then nearly shouted, "Thank you!" she smiled wide then grabbed his hand, "When are ya gonna go to a concert with me?"

"When your taste in music changes." he answered as he stepped up onto the sidewalk.

They turned and started to walk side by side.

She reminded him, "I thought you said my music was growing on you." She leaned against him.

"Some of your music." he corrected, released her hand then slipped an arm around her, "Only some of your music is remotely tolerable."

"Bullshit," she laughed then stated, "You sure in the hell liked it last night."

He huffed, "I wasn't really paying attention to the music now was I?"

"Mood music," she quipped, "That was pure mood music, baby, and boy did it get you in the mood."

"You're annoying," he commented with another shake of his head.

"I know." she quickly agreed, "And I get to annoy the shit outta ya forever and ever and ever and ever."

He spoke up, "Oh, speaking of annoying," he changed the subject, "I spoke to my sister."

"Yeah, what's up?" she asked while her hand reached and gripped his leather trench.

He explained, "She's going to take care of someone more annoying than you, actually two that are more annoying than you." He smiled with such a thought of sweet revenge on the two who managed to destroy him.

She grinned, "Oh, Brewster and Vincent."

"Yes," he gave a short nod.

She quickly stated,"You could do it all yourself, you know." She leaned her head against him.

"Yes," he agreed then explained, "But I prefer enjoying my return instead of planning two deaths." he tightened his arm's embrace around her waist, "She already had it planned before I came back so I won't deny her the pleasure of destroying those two."

She immediately accused, "I'm thinking you just don't wanna admit you wanna spend all your waking moments with me!" she giggled and leaned back to eye him suspiciously, "Don't wanna explain how your having more fun with me than you would if you were plotting Brewster and old actor Vincent's deaths."

"Yes, what fun," he sarcastically agreed, "Toting you around all over the damned place so you can attend these concerts." He couldn't help but laugh because she was right, there was more fun to have now that he was back and that didn't need to include Charley Brewster and Peter Vincent. He commented, "I believe I spoil you."

"Yeah, you do." she quickly agreed and smugly added, "But I deserve it."

He paused and looked down at her. Yes, he thought, she deserved everything he could offer. He openly admitted, "I agree you deserve it after what you've done for me." he stated, "And I have you for all eternity to give you everything you deserve."

She continued to look up at him suspiciously and commented, "Not sure if I like the sound of that. There's a huge assed but in there somewhere."

"No but," he shook his head, "Just this." He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. He drew back and nudged her forward.

"So, are you hungry?" he curiously asked.

"Yeah, sure, got me a hankering for some German." she laughed, "Oh," she paused near the turn at the sidewalk then sang, "Got you something." She lifted her hand that held a Scorpions band tee.

He quickly protested, "No, that's not going to happen." He turned and continued around the corner.

She frowned then her eyes brightened. She raced around the corner and shouted, "You can wear it when we're alone!"

"Not going to happen!" his voice shouted back.

"You're a stubborn shithead!" her voice yelled back followed by a giggle.

_Roll Credits with the song Hey You by the Scorpions._

Hey You Lyrics

Hey you, I'm in love with your eyes  
And the sound of your name  
Hey you, I'm in love with your smile  
And the way you're dressed today

Hey you, well I like the way you walk  
Just like a star moves on stage  
Hey you, well I like the way you talk  
You're really calm for your age

I really die  
You're driving me wild  
I really die  
I'm in love a100 times

I really die  
You're driving me wild  
I really die  
I'm in love a 100 times  
To be your answer

Hey you, I said you know what's going on  
Do you know what I mean  
Hey you, daddy wants you to come

This School is up to me

_**(Author)**_

_**Yes, Blood Atonement has been fixed. All the musical errors fixed. Some stuff added. And I even included the lyrics to Hey You by the Scorpions! :D Ain't I a nice author?! Now I shall work on the other ones as well, to take them to the level they deserve to be. Thank you for choosing Blood Atonement as your read. I would seriously give anything to know if Mr. Chris Sarandon EVER took the time to read this in effort to understand the artwork I gave him in dedication to this Fright Night story. It would be nice. If he ever would, I wonder what he would think of my depiction of Jerry Dandridge? Would he approve of my way of giving Jerry a higher level of humanity that developed during that ghost entrapment? Hmm, I guess I'll never know unless I happen to meet him again and have the testicles to ask. Perhaps I if I did get another chance, I'll just simply give him this story... should burn a CD with all the tunes too.. HAHA! I am a dreamer ya know!**_

_**FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA!**_


End file.
